


Something Beautiful

by 0WritersBlock0



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, For fuck’s sake I’m begging you please read this, Gen, Guys seriously I sold my soul to Satan to write this, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, M/M, Magic, Multi, Mutant Powers, These are some long-ass chapters, please read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 63,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0WritersBlock0/pseuds/0WritersBlock0
Summary: You know, there's something beautiful about writing someone else's story. Even though you know they may never read it, you're comforted by the thought that you've made them proud by telling the world about their life. But I'm not writing this person's story to make them proud. I'm writing this story so her son can know who she was. Who she always will be, at least to us.





	1. Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first true Avengers fanfic, so I would really appreciate it if you guys could read and review and leave some kudos to tell me if or how much you like this. Thanks for reading, though! Kisses~!

Five years after Thanos snapped his fingers and dissolved fifty percent of all life in the universe, the Avengers and many other heroes came together to defeat the Titan. There were many time travel complications caused by the heroes' tampering, all of which led to the past Thanos returning from his timeline to defeat the Avengers and retrieve the six Infinity Stones, which dictate the six aspects of the universe.

The aftermath of this massive battle left the Avengers headquarters and everything within a few miles of it in complete destruction.

The damage seemed irreversible, to say the least. And because of the uncontrollable power of the snap he used to destroy Thanos' army and Thanos himself, Tony Stark perished from his injuries. After Tony's passing, Nick Fury walked into the kneeling circle of heroes and glanced down at Doctor Strange and, unbegrudgingly pleaded with him to do whatever was necessary for Tony's return.

Fury asked this of Strange as the wizard plucked out the Time Stone from the charred gauntlet and tried to reverse Tony's injuries. It did not repair much at all, having been one of the sources of power that killed Earth's greatest defender.

Strange agreed, pale green eyes flitting between the gem in his hand and the battered body of Tony Stark. He breathed deeply a moment, placing the Time Stone into the Eye of Agamotto as he also plucked the Space Stone out of the glove and grasped it tightly.

His eyes shut as he meditated with immense focus and determined a plan to force Tony's brain to restart. Strange delved deeper into his meditation, eyes dark and cold after having witnessed the death of the greatest man in history. He peeked into other dimensions, scanning through people and their stories in an attempt to discover someone who could actually help his fallen companion. And by some kind of unexpected miracle, he found an individual. Eventually, he stood and created a portal with the help of the Space Stone, walking forward into the vast darkness without a single word.

Everyone waited in stony silence. And while they waited, everyone watched in pain and fear as the weight of the moment slowly descended upon their shoulders. Each tried to hold back their tears. They all huddled around the man in an attempt to feel his presence near them even after his death.

Everyone awaited the sorcerer's return, each expressing various levels of exhaustion, unable to stand up for longer than a few minutes. Each Avenger tried their hardest to bring Tony as much as they could. Thor used the Power Stone to try and give his friend enough energy to return on his own. It proved useless. Wanda tried to use her magic to force life into Tony, but her attempts were in vain.

No one said a word, all feeling the silence envelop their bones with an unnatural embrace.

The only sounds rumbling through the quiet originated from young Peter Parker, who couldn't withhold his sobs.

* * *

A young mutant named Sanjeevani stood in her living room as her parents beat down on her after discovering her affinity for healing. She'd only learned of her mutation today, and didn't say anything in fear of being experimented on, she explained. But her parents didn't listen, instead choosing to punish her for not healing their dying parents and family members. "I didn't know, I didn't know!" she told them. They cared not. Strange took this as an opportunity and portal-ed into the room with the help of the Space Stone. He glared down at the parents, who'd stopped their abuse to gaze in awe at the bearded man.

"You've done enough. Let her go."

Terror gripped every being in the room, all quivering from the unexpected and baffling entrance of this strange cloaked man. The girl whimpered more, burying her face in her hands to avoid the entire ordeal of sensing the world around her. After regaining his ability to speak and act, the girl's father stood on quaking legs and glowered back at the magician. "Get out of my house."

Strange sighed, rubbing his temples. "First just tell me why the fuck you were beating the absolute life out of a CHILD?!" The father responded with an angrier hiss of, "Leave," animalistic rage building in his face. He had no intention of being bossed around by this odd man who entered his home without permission. Of course, he feared what this being could do to him, but he had more anger in him than fright. Seeing no means to make the man talk, Strange turned to the young boy hiding on the stairs, the child clearly trying to cloak himself in the darkness to avoid the elders' eyes. He walked towards the small, shivering creature and spoke hesitantly but gently. "Hello, young man. I'm from another place far away from here, and I need your sister's help with something. Why are your parents hurting her?"

The boy whimpered like an injured animal caught in a trap. "They saw Sissy has powers and got mad because she didn't help the people in our family who are sick."

The bearded man nodded, eyes dark with an understanding of the situation. "When did they see she had powers?"

"Today. She was using them in her room, and they brought her down here, and then they hit her."

The father, clearly enraged by his son's tattling of the family's events, lunged towards the weird stranger and the child, but Strange sent him flying back into the couch with a thud as tight red ropes of light kept the man bound. The doctor turned to the sobbing young woman.

He knelt down beside her on the ground, taking note of her fetal position against the couch and her dark, blood-matted hair. He smiled comfortingly, trying to be the gentle, calming force in the room after all that the girl just experienced. For once, his bedside manner would help him, even though he no longer practiced medicine of any kind. "Hello, there, miss. My name is Dr. Strange. I'm from another dimension where superheroes are real. I know you've been through a lot, and I know you're really scared of everything right now. I won't blame you for that or be upset about it, but I need your help."

The girl didn't dare respond, not after all the weird shit she'd experienced thus far that day. She had no idea who this man was or why he needed her, but she would rather stay somewhere familiar and painful than somewhere unfamiliar and likely more painful. Dr. Strange tried to replicate the soul-reading abilities that the Ancient One had utilized on him when the two first met. His mind burned with anger at her thoughts. Not the fact that she didn't feel comfortable with him, but that her family had failed her to such an extent that she was so emotionally reliant on them despite all that they had done unto her.

He tried his hardest to seem gentle, kind, slow. "I know you're scared. I know you're hurt. I can take you away from here to an amazing place. Do you want to come with me? You can get away from this place and stay with me and my friends if you want. Just tell me what you want to know, and we can work this together, okay? What do you want to do first? We can heal those injuries-"

Her hand rose up, telling him to stop. She sniffled, rubbing away her tears while sitting up properly. She shook like a lamb learning to walk, but her movements held a kind of regal and graceful nature he didn't often see in women of her age. He wondered, _Was she a performer of some sort?_ "Dr. Strange, I'm nineteen, not nine. I can make my decisions. I'm definitely going with you. This horrid home has kept me in metaphorical chains all my life. Even if you're a drug or human trafficker and not an actual magic person, it's probably better than this place." She held her hand out to him when he stood. He smiled and grasped her hand tightly, pulling her up with him gently enough to make sure he didn't pull any muscles or dislocate any shoulders.

The mother leaped up and scowled deeply at the young girl and the older man. "How dare you try to take her away from us?! She is our daughter! What will you do to her, huh?! Sell her?! Rape her?! Get away from my child!"

Strange shook his head. "You hurt her so badly. I still can't comprehend why. But she's better there with us than here with you. What'll happen if she stays? You send her off for experimentation? You leave her there at that facility for months, and she comes back docile, broken? How is that good for her? You don't understand her powers. You never will. But my dimension, my world, we can. We can definitely understand. Besides, she'll be a slave to you all, won't she? A cure for anytime anyone you know is hurt or sick? In my world, she'll help people, but of her own accord. She'll love being a cure. She'll love helping. And, she'll save tons more lives than she will here, assuming you all do exactly what I think you'll do. In fact, I want her to come along so that she can save a life. The most important life."

The father snarled, sitting up despite his bindings. "Her duties are first and foremost to this family. What right do you have to take her away?"

Stephen's jaw tightened. "The fact that you beat her bloody. That's enough right. And the fact that you confirmed that she'll likely be some kind of slave to her family. I don't approve of that. And considering you two are obviously nowhere near as powerful as I am at this moment, I can take her away with nothing but her approval. You should have her approval too, but you don't seem to care. That's not right. She's nineteen years old. She is a legal adult and can make her own decisions. And should she decide to leave with me, which she has, she will do just that. You have no right whatsoever to stop her from doing whatever necessary to ensure she is safe, healthy, and happy. You've lost that right to her because of how you've damaged her."

The mother's eyes shot wide open, and she reached for her daughter's hands, grasping more tightly when the younger woman tried to move away. In their native language, she begged, _"Please, please, don't go. You're ours. We raised you. We love you. We just couldn't believe you'd hide a gift like that from us when we could have helped our family members. Why would you lie and hide it from us?"_ The girl let out an angry scream and shoved the woman back, the dark wells of her irises bright with manic energy and budding tears.

 _"SHUT UP! Shut up shut up! Just shut up! You keep saying I'm lying, but you're the liars! You lied all the time! You lied that nothing was wrong with me! You lied that I was safe with you! You lied that you loved me! Just go away!"_ raged the girl. Strange could only kneel with her and try to keep her from completely giving in to her mental breakdown. He needed her functional for this. For Tony to come back, he needed the girl in a functional (functional, not good, which would require lots of therapy and counseling) state.

The girl seemed to catch herself in the middle of it all. She looked at Strange's face with a peculiar expression before sitting up and then standing, composing herself quickly. Something changed, and she'd cut off her meltdown before it worsened.

She brushed herself off and spoke at her parents in a coldly calm voice. "I will only ever help my baby brother and my two nieces and the girls' families. They're the only people who deserve it. So if you get sick, don't you dare come crying to me. You broke me. You tried to destroy me. You have no right to me or my abilities. If you die, I'll raise Raju. He doesn't need the toxicity of this family in his life. He'll be happier with me than he ever was with you. And if I hear you've hurt him..."

She let the threat hang in the air. 

She observed her parents' furious and petrified expressions with an unholy glint in her eyes before turning to Strange.

"Let's get out of here. No need to stay any longer than necessary." 

He snorted. "I agree." He opened the portal again and held his arm out to the girl, who took his elbow daintily, hands curling around his clothes tightly. She smiled at him partly bravely, and he walked forward into the dark abyss of the swirling pathway. As the two walked into the void, their ears caught the sound of the parents saying something in cold, angry voices. Sanjeevani choked back a soft sob of surprise, and Strange tried to ignore their words. He knew exactly what they said even without knowing the language.

The two stepped on land once more after walking into what looked like mass mourning for the fallen Tony Stark.

Strange received a confused expression from the young woman, and he sighed. "This is what I needed help with. One of my hero associates, Tony Stark alias Iron Man, died. He used the six Infinity Stones, which are physical representations of the six aspects of the Universe. Using them altogether killed him. I want you to help me bring him back unless you can do it on your own." The entire time he spoke, the girl's face morphed into various expressions, some of pain and worry and others of wonder and awe.

She pulled away from him, walking towards the crowd. "I'll try on my own first. Help me if I ask." At his nod of approval, Sanjeevani steadily snuck through the crowd to reach the epicenter of the action: the dead form of Iron Man.

The experience felt completely surreal. She took a breath of shock and awe at seeing this clearly remarkable man in such a state. She knelt down beside him reverently, keenly aware of everyone's eyes on her. She spoke softly to the woman sitting across from her, a beautiful redhead with warm eyes, presumably Mr. Stark's wife. "My name is Sanjeevani, ma'am. Dr. Strange brought me here to help your husband." The redhead sobbed and nodded.

"You can try, sweetie. You can try."

Sanjeevani smiled warmly and squeezed the redhead's hand before asking gently if the woman could step away for a moment. The teen gazed down at the man and sighed sadly, slowly brushing her fingers along the massive bruises and injuries lining the man's neck and face. She looked at Tony and rubbed his cheek gently. This would take a lot of energy and help. She didn't know where to start.

Her eyes locked on his scorched arm. A good starting line. She flicked her eyes to his other side to check for any more severe injuries there and gazed down again at the charred flesh, breathing slowly. She focused on the feeling of light and warmth resting deep in her chest, trying to pull it up out of her like a string. Slowly, her fingertips and hands began to glow gold and green from her pull on her powers.

She opened her eyes and lay both hands on his arm, each resting respectively on either side of his elbow. To the amazement of everyone seated around her, the tissues and lacerations of the skin began to heal slowly, as if the damage was being reversed with a time machine.

Once his arm healed completely, Sanjeevani moved her hand to his neck to fix the burns there. After that, she switched gears to his internal situation. "Can someone help me pry this armor off of him?"

A massive bear-looking man with a braided beard walked towards her, kneeling opposite her. He gave a terse smile and easily started ripping the red and gold suit away from Tony's body. It seemed like he was tearing paper and not solid metal. But her focus remained on fixing Tony, leaving little time for her to sit in awe of this giant of a man. She smiled at him when he stood and walked backward from his place.

She resumed her work, slowly undoing all the torture and suffering imposed on this poor man of iron. Truly, the name suited him. Not just for his metallic outfit but also for his internal damage. He sustained so many injuries and broken organs in his lifetime, she was shocked that he even lived this long.

Once she fixed his body, she moved onto his life force. Truly, she didn't know what to do for this part. Fixing injuries is one thing. Giving life is another. She called for Dr. Strange, who approached her with a pep in his step.

He was so excited. She'd come farther than the others had. Much farther. Maybe she could do this, bring Tony back.

He sat beside her. She spoke calmly, though tiredly. "Okay. What are the six Infinity Stones?"

He held them all in his hand. "Time, Space, Reality, Soul, Mind, Power. They control what they're named after, obviously."

Her eyes sparked with the energy of a new idea. "Can you wield them on your own?"

He shrugged. "Possibly. But I need to wear the gauntlet. Can you get it off?"

With a nod, she glanced at Tony's hand, which almost seemed fused to the metal glove. She put as much of her healing energies into fixing his hand as possible while making sure Strange knew to pull it off. It came off with a pop.

"It's broken, so I don't know if you can use it. But maybe there's another one? I don't know where you'd find that, but I have an idea of how to use it. I want to use the Power and Soul Stones at the same time. Use the Soul Stone to search for Tony's soul. Use the Soul and Power to bring his soul here. Use the Power to force it back together with his body. I'll help with the last part." Strange's eyes widened a little, smiling a little.

"Why didn't _we_ think of that? Okay, good idea." He grabbed Tony's gauntlet, figuring it could perhaps still work and tried to put it on, only to find that the glove didn't fit. When he expressed his thoughts to Thor, the giant snorted. "Anthony is a small man. Of course, his glove wouldn't fit you. Use the other one."

Slightly embarrassed by the slightly air-headed God of Thunder's better idea, Strange asked one of the heroes to bring him the other gauntlet that the old Thanos had brought to the future with him.

Spider-Man retrieved it with shaky hands and quivering shoulders. He didn't look at either of the people trying to help Mr. Stark.

Strange fitted the two Stones into the gauntlet, closing his eyes to focus on their energies and how he had to use them. After feeling confident in his abilities, he looked at Sanjeevani, who gave a warm smile. "You got this, Doc. Go get him." Nodding, the Sorcerer Supreme put his abilities to use. The Soul Stone glowed a warm orange, for Strange was searching in every realm for Tony's soul, finding it in the Soul World. He grinned at the man's nonchalant greeting and grabbed the Man of Iron's arm.

The Power Stone activated, its amethyst light glowing in the explosion-darkened area as Strange used it to heave Tony's soul back into the current world. Strange kept his eyes closed and tried to hold onto Tony's spirit with all his might, telling the girl in a tight voice that he was ready. Dr. Strange and Sanjeevani clasped hands, Sanjeevani's hand resting over Tony's heart as Strange moved Tony's soul towards his healed body.

In a flash of pure white light, the two forced their powers to work in conjunction, and Sanjeevani bound Tony's soul and body with the last of her healing energy as Strange used the Power Stone to meld the soul and body together.

In the end, Tony sat up and gasped painfully hard for air. At the same time, Sanjeevani slumped over, leaning against Strange after having drained herself to help the dead man come back to life. What a day it had been for her. Discovering she has powers, practicing them a little, and then using them to bring someone back from the dead. It was too much. So with one last smile at Strange, the girl fell unconscious.

Strange helped the man sit up, smiling weakly. Even he felt tired after all that use of the Stones. Thanos was a bastard, but damn, he was a strong one for using all six of them in different combinations so effortlessly. The doctor explained the entire situation to Tony, who finally realized what had just happened and covered his face. He thanked Strange profusely, but the man refused. "I just got your soul. The kid did the rest. Thank her once she's conscious again." Tony agreed, knowing the girl would need rest after everything she just did. Strange got some of the other sorcerers to come over and help him heal the girl. As they attended to their work, Tony and his people had a reunion.

After standing, he sprinted forward, and his team lunged forward to hug him tightly. The other five Avengers sobbed in relief when he hugged them back. Bruce lifted them all up in his hug, unable to hold back his joy.

They all coddled him and poured their love onto him. Tony pulled away once they got their share of love and moved for Pepper, who hugged him so tightly he almost lost his breath. They cried and hugged and kissed and didn't let each other go until they could be apart for a little while.

Tony was completely prepared for Peter throwing himself at the older man in desperation. He held the kid tightly, not letting Peter escape him. And Peter didn't let Tony go either, both crying for each other. Happy sprinted forward towards him after being brought there by Fury, who returned with the other snapped heroes, little Morgan enfolded in Happy's arms as he barrelled along like a tank. He crushed Tony in his arms as the man sobbed and hugged Morgan tightly. The girl just cuddled against her father.

Nick Fury stepped over to Tony and shook his hand when the father finally stood up, daughter cradled in one arm.

After being healed by the magicians and regaining consciousness, the young woman fell into her tearful mood, breaking down a few times and covering her face so the Doctor wouldn't see her tears. Strange could only pat her back as he tried to calm her down.

Everyone turned to the girl and Strange to thank them, all of them excited and happy that Tony was well and alive.

But their smiles disappeared when they realized the girl was crying.

Tony and the others stepped towards her to ask what was wrong, but she flinched away from his hand as if he'd burned her. At realizing her reaction, the sobs grew anew and Strange could only rub her back.

Tony looked at the sorcerer, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Dr. Strange let out a slow, shuddering exhale and watched Tony. He motioned for the others to come closer. Everyone did as he implied, making a little circle around him.

"Everyone, this is Sanjeevani. She's from a parallel dimension. I was looking for others who could help and found her. She's a mutant with healing abilities. Well, I think that's one of them. I don't know all of her powers. She'll be staying here in this dimension. She can tell you the reason if she wants to. Everyone she will miss in that dimension, she can talk with over the phone or visit if she asks me to take her there."

No one said a word. No one knew how to handle it. The first question came from Fury. "So who will she stay with? The Sorcerers? The Avengers? Who?"

Dr. Strange looked at the young woman who was currently somewhat curled into herself on the dirt. Her hair hung limply over her shoulders, dark eyes stared into the floor, skinny arms quivered as they hugged their body, quivering lips pursed, and quiet tears slipped down the bleeding face. With one last shiver and sob, the girl let out a loud wail of agony, throwing her head back while tightening her arms around herself, and she screamed her pain into the heavens.

Everyone leaped back a few feet from shock at the display. They looked at one another, unsure of what to do next as the girl let herself screech out her struggles into the clearing air. Eventually, the screams declined as the tears resumed. Strange wrapped an arm around her shoulders again, sighing sadly as she sobbed and leaned against him.

Tony handed Morgan back to Pepper, slowly walking forward to sit with the girl. He rubbed his wrists and breathed deeply. The girl said nothing, only smiling tearfully at him.

She reached a hand out, and he leaned closer, letting her feel all over his face. He laughed lightly at her next words. "Seriously, what kind of idiot would want to kill such a beautiful man? That bad guy you guys fought is a complete dumbass." Pepper giggled, moving closer to sit down on the floor in front of the young woman. She smiled at the girl, squeezing her hand like Sanjeevani had done for her before Tony was brought back.

"I always thought the same thing, sweetie." The young brunette smiled, almost melting at the older woman's term of endearment. Seeing this change, Tony breathed softly, knowing what the kid was feeling. Finally, she found people that actually loved and appreciated her. She would need just as much therapy as the rest of them.

He stood up, rubbing his hands together. "Guys!" Addressing everyone at once, Tony smiled. "We won the war. We stopped Thanos. But the world still has scars. We have to fix it. The work of a hero never ends. Part one, fix this compound. We need a headquarters to function out of. Part two, get every single cell phone connected to FRIDAY. I want to talk to everyone. Whoever is a tech expert and magic-user will work with me to get every phone to transmit my video message in the language of the phone user. Part three, I need every single world leader to get in a mass discussion with me. Online or in person. We need to start rebuilding our countries. Part four, I need all health services up and running. People need to be healed. Any and all economists and public work officials join me at the meeting. We're gonna fix this planet. New Asgard can help with physical rebuilding and strategy. Sorcerers can help with transport and communication. I need Valkyrie and any capable and willing Asgardians for citizen search and rescue. Anyone else, help where help is needed."

Sanjeevani murmured softly, "I can lead the health services. I may not be a doctor, but I can heal as many as my body allows." Legs still shaking, she stood up, only to crumble again. Tony caught her in time, smiling sadly. He set her down beside Strange, who tucked her into his arms.

"No, you can't. I'm not saying that because of your ability. I'm saying that because of your condition. Kid, you almost died trying to fix me. You need to sleep. We can handle this. You just learned about your powers, and you had a hard day today. Just chill. We'll be fine, okay? Don't worry about it. If we need your help, we'll ask you, I promise. But for now, please just relax. Don't make me have another kid's death on my conscience."

Peter smiled secretly at his mentor's words. Damn, it felt good to be loved and to have his only remaining father figure alive.

Sanjeevani sighed, but nodded, pouting a little at not being allowed to help.

So as the others hurried away to help with the world-fixing effort, she sat in a quiet area with one of the sorcerers named Wong, who Strange introduced to her as his closest friend. Wong didn't say much but answered her questions. Really, the time alone helped them get along. Sanjeevani let out all her woes, and Wong let out his. It was a good bonding experience. And after they got out their pity stories, they talked about magic.

Sanjeevani asked him how the sorcerers can do that magic circle thing, and Wong asked how she healed Tony. She asked him how he can make light with nothing but his own body, and he asked her how she put a soul back in a body. She asked him how he can fight with light and magic, and he asked her how she can heal the damaged body of a dead man. The two exchanged stories and ideas and abilities while the world rushed around them. But it was nice. It was calm. It felt like peace, which was weird to say after the biggest war in human history. It felt like sitting at the beach and watching the waves crash on the shore and not doing anything else.

In fact, that's what they did. With a quick word to Strange, Wong brought Sanjeevani to an empty beach to just enjoy the peace. She showed him her healing powers, which he replicated perfectly. In return, he showed her his portal magic, which she completely failed to replicate.

He laughed at her failure, and she rolled her eyes. Dr. Strange opened a portal and walked towards them, smiling slightly at the sight of their gentle interactions. "You two ready to go? The battleground is back to Avengers HQ conditions. People are heading off to go do world-repair, and Wong, you have to be part of that effort. I need to take Sanjeevani somewhere safe where she can wait for everything to get to normal without worry."

Sanjeevani, who'd been so excited to finally use her powers in public and help people, seemed to crumble in disappointment. She looked down dejectedly and wrung her hands, not wanting to say anything about her thoughts. She didn't know how these people would take it if she expressed her displeasure.

Having noticed her change in posture and expression, Strange looked at her with a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder. "I don't know where to send you, kid. I know you don't wanna go back to your reality." She sighed and nodded in agreement. "I figured. Do you want to stay at the Sanctum Sanctorum with the sorcerers? At least until we can figure something out for you?"

Sanjeevani smiled a tiny bit. "I guess that's fine. Thanks, Doc. You're awesome."

He opened a portal and the three brunettes walked in, returning to the newly fixed Avengers headquarters. Everything looked pristine, perfect as if the most massive battle in the history of human civilization had never occurred here. Strange walked the young teenager towards the Avengers to figure out what to do with her and where she could stay.

And then, the sound of water. Millions upon millions of liquid tons of water receded from the shoreline of the beach beyond the edge of the cliff. Dr. Strange whipped around at the loud noise and the other Avengers prepared for more fighting. He rushed forward and tried to assess the situation.

To everyone's extreme surprise, the SHIELD helicarrier rose out of the sea, finally properly rebuilt and fixed, likely during the five years when the world was mourning everyone it lost. The heroes all stared in awe at the immense craft, eyes glowing with joy and relief. Captain America and the Black Widow seemed less than hopeful, considering their history with SHIELD/Hydra, but even they appeared impressed by the huge airship.

Tony sighed in relief, looking at the others. "That's the first thing that was a pleasant surprise during this entire battle thing."

Peter snorted. "Mr. Stark thinking of SHIELD's return as more of a pleasant surprise than the rest of us who were snapped away being brought back? It's more likely than you think."

The young woman burst into uncontrollable laughter. She walked over to the young teen and high-fived him. They grinned at one another before Tony squawked. "Dude, you're awesome!" exclaimed the girl. Peter grinned. "Hey, you're pretty cool yourself!"

She smiled. "You from New York?"

He nodded. "You?"

"Georgia."

He grinned. "Cool."

She laughed and threw an arm around him. "You'd think so, but it's actually quite hot there. Not cool at all." They both snickered at the bad pun.

He raised an eyebrow "On a scale of 'It's an avocado, thanks' to the guacamole song, where are you right now?"

She died of laughter again. "For me, it'll have to be Sam Smith playing in the background with the kid in the backseat." Peter nodded sagely, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Wise choice. What's your BuzzFeed Unsolved mood?"

She hummed. "Ooh. Good question. It'll have to be Ryan completely dissociating when demons seem real."

Peter grinned. "Nice! Mine is when Shane screamed at the ghosts at Hannah's house."

She chuckled. "Honestly, though, same."

Standing afar from the two youths, Cap asked Tony, "Are they drunk?"

The genius shook his head. "That would be infinitely better. No, these two are just talking in the language of Gen Z kids."

Thor called out, "Alright, enough leisurely conversation! We still have work to do, you both!"

The youngsters rushed back over, not having realized they had to do more stuff.

"Sorry, Mr. Thor!" exclaimed the tiny spider.

The young woman simply smiled. "That was fun. What else do we do?"

Tony groaned. "Help me get this whole place back to normal. Look at this lawn care!"

She huffed. "I'm not a gardener."

He gave her an unimpressed sigh. "You literally have healing powers."

She shrugged.

"Sorcerers?" he asked. They all got home in their own ways. He waved goodbye. He looked at the Guardians. "You all?"

They looked at one another and then at Gamora, who'd returned with Natasha, for Gamora was the first sacrifice to the Soul Stone. She smiled. "We'll figure it out."

Strange sighed and looked at the remaining Avengers. "Anywhere to go?"

Clint smiled. "Home for me, Doc."

The Sorcerer Supreme nodded.

Goodbyes went around as the Guardians spoke to the Avengers one last time before speeding away in their jet. Thor had actually chosen to stay with the Avengers rather than head off with the Guardians. He was still needed by the puny humans.

Dr. Strange promised to transport the remaining Stones back to the time they belonged, resetting the timeline. He took Clint Barton with him so the old man could go home to his family at last. Captain Marvel headed out to space again with a few goodbyes here and there.

In the end, it was the Avengers, standing in odd silence on their green grass.

Tony looked at the young woman with a smile. "So, what is it that you do?"

She could only groan at that. "Ugh."

* * *

"So what exactly is it that you do?"

She frowned lightly. "Guys, I thought Doc Strange told you about me."

Steve disagreed. "No, he didn't. He gave us a factoid about you, not a full description of what your powers entail."

She sat down on the couch in the living room of Avengers HQ. Everyone else also took a seat. She looked around at the heroes and sighed. "Fair enough. In that case, I need a better intro. Strange was cool and all, but… Anyways, my name is Sanjeevani. That name means 'that which gives life' in Sanskrit. Yeah, I know, really convenient with my powers and all. Not my fault. You guys can call me Anji for short. I was born in Atlanta, but my parents are from Andhra Pradesh in India. I'm nineteen years old. Today, I discovered I have powers. My parents saw too, and we freaked the hell out. We fought a lot, and I got disowned. I don't know much about my powers, but I was born with 'em. I mean, I can obviously do healing stuff, but I'm not sure what else I can do. And, it requires a lot of energy, so if you find your pantry is emptier than some souls tonight, that's why."

The others laughed a little at that last bit. She went on. "I can go to a certain level, but nothing too big. Doing too much is seriously draining, which is why I fainted after fixing Tony."

Ant-Man snickered. "So size does matter."

Anji snorted with laughter for a few seconds but calmed down. Her grin stuck to her face. "Yeah, man. In that aspect, size does matter. The same goes for you, dude."

He laughed and covered his face. "Oh my god."

She resumed her talking. "But yeah. What else do you guys want to know?"

Bruce raised his hand. "So is it magic or science?"

She smiled. "Bro, you tell me. I have no idea what it could be. Maybe it's magic, maybe it's science, but think what you will."

Steve sat forward in his seat. "So can you fight?"

Anji bit her lip again, body retracting into itself. "I don't know. I want to. It seems really cool. I just don't know if I'm up for the challenge. Strength and physical ability aren't things I'm known for."

Bucky crossed his arms, sitting back in his seat. "Kid, anyone can learn to fight. Anyone. Steve did, and he couldn't even breathe right when he was younger."

The girl chuckled at the accusation. "Seriously? Wow, dude. Lame. But…I don't know. I don't wanna cause any inconvenience or waste any time if you guys can't teach me."

Natasha smirked. "In that case, it'll be on us for failing as teachers. If you want to learn, you can. You can heal and fix people. I'm sure you can break them too."

"Natasha!" exclaimed Bruce. "That's not gonna help!"

Anji shook her head. "No, it's fine, Dr. Banner. I um." She met eyes with the Black Widow, trying to search for something in those haunted eyes of the redheaded woman. "Ma'am, I don't trust myself to hold back. I don't want to. I've done that all my life. I'm scared to think that once I have the ability to hurt people, the anger I've repressed will come back to bite me in the ass. I don't wanna become that."

Tony spoke gently, standing to sit beside her. "That's what we're here for. We can teach you to handle that anger. Especially Bruce. He's done that all his life."

Peter smiled up at his new friend brightly. "Besides, if you wanna fight out the rage, we got plenty of enhanced people you can spar with. Obviously Dr. Banner, but also me, Wanda, Mr. America, Mr. White Wolf, and Mr. Thor. We'll all help you!"

Anji turned her gaze to the young hero, reaching a hand out to cup his jaw gently. She smiled at him with tears in her eyes and then turned to the others, the tears melting away to reveal unbridled wrath. "I can't fight now, but let me say this. If I hear that anyone at all has hurt Peter in any way, there will be no God in Heaven, in Hell, or on Earth that can stop my wrath. He is the only thing I know I will protect without hesitation. Like, I don't know how, but I'll bring down plagues on this world that'll make the plagues of Moses' God look like a toddler's attempt at destruction."

Natasha grinned. "Now that's what I like to hear. Maybe not as dramatic, but that's nice."

Steve rubbed his temples. "Goddammit, Nat."

She snorted. "Oh shut it, Super-boy. I can have my relishing moments."

Anji waited in silence. Tony looked at her, eyes wide and hopeful. "Wait…you can sense life-signs, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah…"

He turned to face her. "How far?"

Anji raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I seriously have no idea."

Tony grinned, the clockwork in his brain already formulating new tech and ideas. "You're coming with us on every mission. Whether or not you can fight. Can you sense life even with technology blocks like radio tampering?"

She shrugged. "I just told you. I don't know! I just learned about my powers today. "

He nodded. "Confirmed. Every time we have major civilian crisis or targets to spot, you're going into the field, if not to fight, then at least to find and heal people."

Her smile grew wider. "Awesomeness."

Bruce pursed his lips as he looked at the young woman. "So…you can heal on a massive scale. How long can you go without using a stone?"

She shook her head. "Not long. I had barely enough energy to heal myself from the exhaustion and strain of dimensional travel when the Doc brought me here. But I know with use and development, I'll grow into my powers. It'll take some time. I just don't know how long."

Sam Wilson looked at her calmly. "Look, kid. A lot of people could use your help. Time is short. Is there anyone nearby who can help you learn your powers?"

Everyone looked at Thor, who was staring at the floor quietly. He glanced up when he felt eyes. "What?"

Tony asked him, eyes dark and serious. "Can you teach Anji to use her powers?"

Thor snorted with loud, booming laughter. "No. Why would I be able to? My powers come from Asgard, though I have recently learned to draw them from myself. Besides, my powers are specific to me. I cannot teach someone with different, weird powers."

Tony sighed and rubbed his face, looking around at the room. "Wanda?"

The young woman looked at Tony. "I don't know, Tony. I really don't. I don't know the extent of my own powers. How can I be expected to teach someone else?"

Thor's eyes brightened with hope. "Wait! Perhaps…"

Tony shot his glance to Thor. "Perhaps what?!"

The Asgardian grinned. "Perhaps Loki can. Loki came back too, he can teach her!"

The smooth glide of the Trickster's voice rang throughout the room. "How often do you plan to fall for my tricks, Thor?"

Thor whipped around and beamed brighter than sunlight at seeing his brother. He leaped over the back of the couch and tackled the smaller man into a tight, unyielding hug. Loki could only hug the man back, pulling away quickly as distaste grew on his face. "You look like a pig. Go clean up and put yourself together. Perhaps I may actually hug you and mean it."

Thor beamed. "I care not, brother. You live. I feared I had lost you once more…I could not bear that feeling." Tears slipped free from his eyes, his heart glowing with relief that all was well in the world.

The Trickster rolled his eyes. "Stop crying, Thor. I'm back now, aren't I? No need for the tears, brother." His expression softened as he looked up at his elder brother, hand quivering as he rested it on the back of Thor's neck, pulling the man close to press their foreheads together in a familiar gesture. He murmured softly, "I have missed you dearly, you lumbering oaf."

Thor could only smile through his tears. "And I have missed you more, you scheming brat." The two brothers stood like that for a moment, the other Avengers shifting uncomfortably in their stances as they watched the familial re-connection.

The two separated and Thor murmured softly, "A young woman was brought from another dimension to help with the post-battle efforts. She has some kind of magic-based healing abilities and requires your guidance. Would you be willing to teach her?"

Loki looked at his massive brother before stepping back. "Is this a favor to you or is this just a voluntary assistance?"

Thor hummed. "Whatever you want. Nothing I say will take away from the fact that she needs your help. We all do. There is no one in the realms that knows the mystic arts better than you. Perhaps Strange matches your ability. You are the only one who can teach her. The Witch does not yet know her powers. Strange is busy maintaining the Sanctum. And I am inexperienced with teaching magic."

The dark-haired man tapped his own lips and looked at Thor. "Show her to me."

The giant man stepped aside, only to see that the young girl had already disappeared. He stared at the empty spot on the couch in absolute confusion, only to whip around hundred-eighty degrees at hearing Tony call out, "Kid, wait! Hold on!" Even Loki delicately raised an eyebrow in surprise at the girl. She stood in the elevator and gave everyone one last smile as it closed. She blew Peter and Tony kisses goodbye before the doors closed completely, and the elevator went down to the ground level.

Everyone gazed at one another in confusion before they turned to Loki. "So…"

He sighed. "If she stayed, I would have considered teaching her. But since she is gone, I shall return to the outside world. I have no work to do here. Not for you fools."

Thor grasped his younger brother's shoulder, eyes weak and soft. "Loki, please. Stay. Stay here. With me. You have already given so much. You gave our people the chance they needed to live and thrive during these five years. You saved them. Stay with me. Please. I beg of you…"

The younger man of Asgard looked at Thor gently, hand shaking as he held onto the taller man's shoulder as well. "I…if it doesn't work out, I will return to the world, live my life peacefully and search for my surviving children to keep them with me."

His elder brother beamed, eyes bright and excited. He yanked the Trickster up into another hug. "I will make it work, brother. I promise."

Everyone sighed, sitting down again as they looked at one another to try and devise a solution to figure out what to do about the runaway girl. They all turned to Loki, eyes expectant and stiff. "Can't you go after her?" asked Steve. "You said you'd teach her, and you're the ablest to find her with all your magic."

He shook his head. "No, Rogers. I said I would consider teaching her. Also, I won't find her. I will actively try to avoid finding her. The girl was brought in from another dimension for a reason." When the others in the room glowered at him for the obvious statement, he continued his explanation. "That tells me that Strange saw something important in her besides just her powers. And from what I've seen of her abilities and interactions, she's not dumb. She knows her morals and duty. She won't do anything beyond that for any reason. So, I realize that she won't run away from people who can keep her safe while she's in an unfamiliar reality unless she has a damned good reason to do so. Which means, she is leaving because she needs to be alone and figure things out on her own. She needs solitude. I will give that to her, and you should too."

Tony rubbed his hands together and sighed, looking at Loki carefully. He then turned to Thor, asking calmly, "Is he being truthful?"

Thor smiled. "My brother lies to protect himself, not to protect other people. He's being honest. He knows trauma, and now I do as well. She needs her time alone. Don't pursue, Tony. Seriously. She needs to be alone."

Bruce took a close look at Loki and then turned to Thor. "Should we still keep an eye on her? Her powers are unexplored, she has no supervision, and she's of a completely different reality. She's dangerous on her own."

Loki snorted. "She'll become more dangerous if she realizes you all are…what's that phrase? Ah yes. She'll become more dangerous if she realizes you all are keeping tabs on her. She needs to be completely alone. The realization that you all do not trust her and want to keep her restricted when all she's done is help will throw her into a rage. Believe me. I have known the same. I have been the same. Leave her be. Completely. And should there be any shows of her harming innocents intentionally, you all can go after her. Remember. Intentional harm. Not accidental harm. Accidents happen. She is untrained and knows not the limits of her powers. People may get hurt. But from what I have thus seen of her, she will heal them. If not from kindness, then at least out of pure guilt."

All of them had fallen silent again after his long explanation. Natasha's voice tightened during her next question. "How come you know so much about what that girl's mind is thinking? You're not her parent or anything, right? I know you can travel dimensions on your own, and you have plenty of weird kids."

A chuckle slipped out from the Trickster's mouth. "Oh, Widow, I am not called a god for naught. The moment I felt her presence in the room upon arriving here, I peered into her mind and heart, searched her soul. The girl's life mirrors mine in ways I had not anticipated. She could not sense my magic as of yet, so she did not feel nor fight the intrusion in her mind. But yes. I know who she is. What she wants to be. How she thinks. I can lay out almost everything she will do in the near future. I may be a God of Mischief, but I am also the best of Asgard's tacticians and sorcerers. I have seen realms that even Heimdall with his Sight cannot imagine."

Thor smiled. "Regarding those truths, will you join us should we search for her if she becomes a danger to Earth? We could use your tactical intelligence, superior magic, and knowledge of the girl."

"I shall not. She is not yet my responsibility. Besides. My presence would only escalate the situation should other humans or beings see me with you all. And, I would not want to steal the limelight from you Avengers. I could cease the entire issue within fifteen minutes. You all need something to do if you have a name like 'The Avengers'."

Tony cleared his voice, grunting as he tucked his phone away in his pocket. "Okay. Don't help us find the kid. Since you're already here, can you please help us with other things? Earth is in absolute chaos after the two snaps. No one here knows chaos and governmental logistics better than you. Thor only ruled for a little bit on Asgard, and he spent the previous years battling away. You studied and stuff, and you ruled as Odin for a while. More experience than any of us in the room. Can you possibly help Earth reorganize its governments and people after all this tragedy?"

To this, Loki gave a soft nod. "This, I will do. But first. My innocence and presence must be announced to Earth. I shan't do anything unless people know I intend to help. Second, I need access to all struggling governments' information. Third. I need a team of people who will carry out my orders accordingly and without judgement. I prefer the youths. Earthly youths have far fewer qualms about severity and following orders than do their idiot adult counterparts."

The smiles of everyone in the room could not be overstated. "Thank you, Loki. Truly. We didn't think you'd say yes, but…" trailed off Steve.

Loki sighed. "I may kill and harm. I may hold contempt. I may seek destruction for entire groups of people. But I never cared to hurt Earth. I only got involved because of my problems with Thor and then my later enslavement by Thanos and the Chitauri. I never cared about this place. I would redeem myself to people who still hate me for something I did not do of my personal consent."

Natasha's eyes widened. Things began to click. "And that's why you're thinking so hard about the girl. You saw she's like you. You saw she's lived similar struggles. You know what she needs, but you want her to trust you. You're wanting someone who understands your life to give you a second chance."

The man threw her a dim smile. "You are not as dull as I had previously assumed, Widow. Yes. That is quite accurate. I need to know that I can be better. If a mere child can live through what I have — though on a much smaller scale — and improve from her current situation in life. If a mere child can show everyone, even someone like me, the form of kindness she has displayed in her work to heal people despite the risks to her own health, perhaps I can do the same." After a breath, he rubbed away the tears in his eyes and the odd feeling in his face. He gazed up at Thor, the glow of love and awe for the might of his elder brother returning to his eyes. "Where shall I stay?"

Thor smiled brighter, curling a muscled arm around Loki's thinner shoulders. "Would it please you to sleep in the room adjacent to mine? So that I may perhaps…er, so that I can bring you out of your nightmares?" Loki was no fool. He knew Thor was asking for himself. Thor needed the comfort of a family member after all he'd seen these past five years. Without hesitation, he nodded.

"It would be nice to be near someone familiar after years of isolation, I suppose." But he couldn't be all soft. He still had to maintain his aloof disposition.

Bruce looked at the brothers and inhaled slowly. "Thor, would you mind if I showed Loki to his room? There's something I want to discuss with him."

Thor's protective glare did not go unnoticed, but the gentle pressure of Loki's hand on his arm softened the Thunderer's temper. "Thor, please. I am here now, am I not? Banner is no threat to me. He may have been previously, but I was being mind-controlled. I was weak. You have not yet seen me at my full ability yet, brother. Calm yourself."

The elder of the two glanced at the younger. Their eyes met, and both nodded their heads. "Fine. Do not provoke Bruce, alright?"

Loki threw his brother a quirked smile. "Now why would I do that, brother~? I am not so dim." He chuckled, following after Banner quietly, leaving his brother with the other idiot humans. After a few moments of silence as the two passed through vast rooms and long hallways, Loki deigned to ask the scientist a question. "What did you wish to speak with me about, Banner?"

Bruce sighed and locked eyes with Loki. "A couple of things, actually. First, I want to apologize. All the times you had done evil shit, I thought it was your contempt for humankind, and I wanted to rip you to shreds. I see now that it was all psychological issues. Second part. I have three questions. Question one, what did you go through in your life that you saw in the girl's life too? Question two, can I help you and the girl through this? I'm no psychologist, but I've dealt with tough things too. I've counseled people while I was in hiding. I just want to help. Question three, can you possibly help me manage Hulk? No. Wrong words. Can you help me and Hulk work together so he and I can split time between my body? I can't always do delicate work with giant hands."

Loki's laugh rang throughout the long tube of a hallway. "Many items there, Banner. If you let me find my room and rest a moment, I will tell you all that you wish to know. But to your first point, I thank you for your apology. It is not needed. I was mind-controlled. My body was not managed by my mind. However, the contempt for mankind did exist. Thor's constant love for this place and hatred for me spurred the mind-control to work deeper into me and embed itself in my being. Only the work of your Hulk brought me out of it. I can now thank you for two things."

Bruce laughed uneasily. "I don't know if beating you into a pulp deserves gratitude, but I'm glad I kind of helped you."

Loki smiled minutely. "As am I."

The two entered the room, and Loki immediately felt taken with the space. It was quite open and large, but still held the traditional darker themes he grew to love since he turned about eight hundred years of age. He seated himself on the edge of the bed, a massive frame of elaborately carved teak-wood with gold outlines. The mattress itself felt soft, like the old cot he slept on as a child whenever he and his mother decided to spend the night outside in the gardens.

The bed coverings were of a color scheme too bright and bubbly for Loki's tastes, but they were nice nonetheless. Beautiful Arabian designs littered the comforter and pillow set, as flashes of sky blue, spring green, and pure white stained the large white comforter. The three decorative pillows of the three colors in the scheme completed the look.

The rest of the room was designed in a similar fashion, with whimsical colors and exotic patterns. Everything matched the blue, green, and white color scheme for the most part, save for the cherry-wood dresser that stood in the corner of the room, adjacent to the bed.

Bruce joined his new acquaintance on the bed and sighed. "Okay. Answers."

Loki smiled. He launched into his life story, occasionally comparing aspects that were shared by the girl's life story. Of course, he left out info that he knew the girl wouldn't want others to know.

Once the story ended, the genius scientist had to take a breath and think about everything Loki had just told him. After processing the many experiences and stories Loki told, Bruce shook himself off and looked intently at the Asgardian. "Loki. I don't know you that well, like, in terms of your personality and stuff. Your true personality. So I'll just say this as a scientist and someone who is scarred, though not nearly as much as you. You need a therapist. Someone who can talk you through your problems and help you through what you're feeling. You may be a god, but even you have a heart and emotions."

Loki's breathing quickened at the thought of being with another person completely alone, especially an adult human.

Banner quickly held his hands up in surrender, having noticed the Trickster's sudden change in behavior. "Calm down. Relax. We won't send you off to another place just so SHIELD can snatch you up. No. Our resident flight-ed bird Falcon can counsel you. Now, his expertise is with war veterans, but I'm sure he wouldn't object to helping you should you need it. And I'm pretty sure you have PTSD and other mental issues that vets would also have."

Seeing the other man's calm demeanor, the sorcerer slowly relaxed. "Alright. I will consider speaking to this Falcon. As for your second question, I do not know. Perhaps speaking to someone who can help me is sound advice. But I am not sure about the girl. I can figure out everything, but I do not truly know how she would react to therapy. She isn't particularly easy to read in terms of how she would deal with mental health."

"That's fine. When she returns, we'll figure it all out. Hopefully, she'll accept treatment and we won't have to force her to do anything," relented the smaller man.

Loki nodded and quirked up the corner of his mouth in an amused smile. "As for helping you with your beast, I do not know. Maybe I could. But it truly depends on how you two function now. Used to be, neither of you worked together when necessary. But also, it depends on what kind of help you need. Haven't you spoken to him?"

Bruce laughed nervously. "Yeah. We did. That's why I have his body and my brain. But it's hard to still be a scientist and use delicate instruments with giant hands. I wanna figure out some way to call for him when I need to fight."

"Hm. Perhaps it would be good to take you both into the astral plane. I have seen the Ancient One bring you into the astral plane. I would be able to speak to both of you at the same time and maybe even devise a spell to give you both a chance to work as one body with two souls. There may still be hope. But nothing is confirmed as of yet. Understood?"

The scientist grinned. "Absolutely. Thank you, Loki." The other simply shook his head, not needing the gratitude. Bruce's smile melted away after a moment. "Why did you come back now?"

Loki smiled. "A magician cannot tell all of his secrets, Banner. I simply decided this was the right time and returned. You need not know more."

"Fair enough. So uh. I guess I'll leave you to it, then? Rest and relax before dinner?" came the scientist's last question.

Loki hummed softly, "Yes. I will alter the room to make it more suitable for my tastes. And if you could have FRIDAY inform me when dinner begins, I'll come down as soon as I can to avoid inconvenience."

"Sure. Got it. See ya." Bruce nodded his head goodbye and walked out of the room, a huge weight — that he didn't realize was there —lifting off of his shoulders.

Once the smaller man left, Loki winced at the sound of pained screaming and wailing coming from far far away. He knew the source. He knew the location. But he couldn't go there yet. Not until the girl was ready for him. She had to heal herself. She had to let her heart experience everything she'd been holding back. Only after that could he go to her and bring her back.

Oh, but his heart ached. He'd never truly seen anyone whose life mirrored his own. At least, not to this degree. He saw himself in her reactions to her struggles. Anger and vengeance and pain and tears. Even in the way she left this building in order to find peace for herself. He had done the same as a younger man: he avoided everyone in his life so he could figure out on his own what he needed. But her screaming and pain, that was what hurt him the most. Not only did he see himself in her struggles, but he heard the wails of his children when they were being taken from him in the sobs of the girl. The two of them had no connection. He'd only just met her. But the deep maternal instinct buried in his bones told him to go bring the child back.

He had to wait for her. He had to stop himself and just let her be. He figured his own mother felt just as helpless and hurt when hearing and seeing his struggles with life and purpose. But she waited for his return patiently. So, Loki would do the same. He would be as his mother was and care for this lonely, stupid, broken child.

Loki wasted the rest of his evening bathing luxuriously and enjoying a nice long nap before dinner. He pushed the thought of the girl's pain to the back of his mind and moved on through the hours. When it came time for dinner, Stark's AI woman told him the meal would be ready in five minutes and that it would be good for him to join the others so they wouldn't have to wait on him. Agreeing with her, he cleaned up a little and made his way down to the dining area where everyone was sitting and talking boisterously, clearly ecstatic that all was going well after the battle with Thanos.

He smiled slightly at Bruce Banner, who nodded respectfully in hello. He nodded hello to Stark, who stood in the kitchen, teaching the other women in the room how to cook. Stark smiled warmly. "Sit down, Reindeer Games. We're almost done."

He sat gracefully down on a chair further from the others, his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced around at everyone at the table. The Avengers grew a little silent when he seated himself. Thor walked away from where he sat with Clint and placed himself on a chair beside his brother, smiling at the dark-haired man with joy in his heart. "Brother. It is good to see you here. I did not think you would join us."

Loki chuckled. "Well, I can only spend so much time alone in that room before I lose my mind from boredom." He raised an eyebrow at Natasha and Clint looking at each other nervously before they turned to him. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Clint cleared his throat. "It's just, you seem a lot more wound up than you were earlier. Sure, it may just have been you and Thor reconciling, but there's something off, Loki. We shared minds. You may be a god, but I'm pretty smart too. What are you hiding from us?"

This truly surprised the sorcerer. He hadn't realized that his reactions and behaviors were so telling of a hidden secret in his mind. He looked down and loosened his arms. "The girl screams. She moans and cries. The one who you wanted me to teach? She's in a lot of pain. It wears away at my heart. I saw myself in her. It hurts to think she is in so much struggle when she should be happier here away from that disgusting home of hers."

Natasha's hand flew to her gun. "How do you know that?"

He met her eyes, his icy emerald clashing with her steely verde. "I am a god. My senses extend far beyond yours. Also." His look softened. "She is the only being in centuries to remind me of my children. This girl may be a stranger to me, but I cannot ignore her plight, not when she has lived my life and cries like my children did when Odin stole them from me."

Pepper choked on her spit while Tony walked towards the table with a giant glass tray of lasagna in hand. "Your what?!"

He chuckled. "Children, Miss Potts-Stark. Like the one you bore a few years ago. I may seem to you all a brutish, heartless snake, but I have borne three children. Their sires were never to be seen again. They left me, but I felt nothing. I need no fools' assistance to raise my flesh and blood. But I wasn't allowed to raise them for long."

Steve looked away nervously, eyes flitting to Loki occasionally. "You're a man. How can you have kids?"

Loki's smile widened. "Captain Rogers, the other Eight Realms need not adhere to Earthly rules of biology. I am of Jotunheim, the realm of the Ice Giants. We are a gender-less race. All Jotnar have male and female genitalia and reproductive organs. Mind you, that means that sizes of organs, both internal and external, are adjusted to make space for both parts. So yes. I have a womb and a vagina."

Mind-shattering silence befell the space. Tony snorted. "Why are you all so surprised? These two are so old that ancient humans wrote myths and legends about them. Is it that shocking that he's got lady parts?"

Steve grunted, putting his face in his hands. "Stark, need I remind you, I don't know any of those things. I came out of the Second World War. I don't know myths and stuff. Of course I'm surprised!"

Clint coughed, looking away. "I kind of knew that. Um. Loki had me under mind-control, remember? I saw a bit into his head, and I never looked back in there. Too much info about his kids and stuff. I figured they came out of him, judging by that motherly intuition stuff or whatever he was expressing."

Bucky shook his head. "Again. Same as Steve. Came out of the World War, and now guys have vaginas. Not something normal, you know. Not for me." He sighed at Natasha's teasing and mockery of his shock.

At the reminder of the beasts Loki had borne, Thor sighed, pressing a hand to his face. "Forgive me, brother…your children are-"

"Oh, hush. The only of my children to perish was Fenrir, my sweet pup. But that was inevitable. With Odin's horrendous parenting, Hela was bound to end up as she did. And she needed a companion, so Odin tossed out my soft child to Helheim," chided the Trickster.

Bruce nodded. "Two other kids, right? The horse and the snake?"

Loki smirked. "At least you know something, brute. Yes. My other two children. Sleipnir, the Horse of Eight Legs, and Jormungandr, the World-Serpent. Sleipnir escaped from Asgard quickly enough to avoid destruction. Jormungandr was never in danger. He lives in Earth's oceans."

Bucky coughed. "What the fuck?"

"Yes. Jor was banished to Earth. He was too great a danger to Asgard, so Odin tossed him into Earth's oceans. This was centuries ago. No humans learned of this. In fact, the sound of the apparent fifty-two-hertz whale is not a whale at all. It is my heartbroken son yearning for me," sighed Loki.

Bruce gaped. "That makes sense. Even though that's insane, it makes sense."

Thor beamed, though, at hearing his two nephews were unharmed. "They are well then?! Good news! Will they come here? Join you?"

"No. My children are their own beings. Should they desire me, they may come to me. I'm sure Sleipnir will arrive in a few days time, though. Jor may need more than a few days."

Thor grinned. "Cause for celebration, then."

"No. You are fat and weak from drinking as you have. No alcohol for you. Understood? You can only have sparkling water with fruit juice. That's it. And no more red meats or animal fats for him from now on, Stark. Thor needs to be healthy again. His liver half functions and his arteries are disgusting."

The giant man whined like a heartbroken pup, which made little Peter sitting across from the two brothers giggle like a child at seeing their silly interactions. Loki gave him a curious glance, and the boy hushed up quickly, almost looking embarrassed at laughing loud enough to have been noticed. The Trickster raised an eyebrow, looking at the Avengers in question as to why a child was seated at a table of heroes. Receiving no response, he shrugged and returned to his previous conversation with his idiot brother. "Thor, seriously. You look like an actual pig, except you have a beard and walk on two feet. Your lifestyle has gone to shit. I refuse to be associated with you if you stay looking like this."

Thor pouted, sighing dejectedly. "The consequence of having you near me again. And I can't believe you're starving me."

"Oh shut up. I'm making you healthy. In fact. BANNER. Thor and I both are going for therapy. Figure something out for us, okay?"

The scientist let out a stuttered, "Y-Yes sir. Shit uh. Yeah, man. Um. I'll get a proper therapist for you two."

"Good. Thank you."

Thor could only smile a little at Loki, pressing the younger man to him in a warm hug. "I have missed your bossy, overbearing nature, Loki." He smiled wider when the younger leaned into him, pressing a hand to Thor's shoulder.

"Yes, well, it becomes necessary when your idiotic elder brother doesn't know how to take care of himself."

Tony beamed as everyone sat down in their proper seats and prepared for the meal. "Alright, guys. Dinner time. The ladies tried to help, but it was completely pointless. They couldn't even tell paprika from chili powder. So go ahead and tell me how good it is."

The conversation devolved into a massive discussion about Tony's ego and Italian-ness. Loki simply watched happily the joyous moment, though the thought of the girl plagued the back of his mind.

* * *

On the other side of New York City, the young heroine stood ready to fight a gang who'd just injured an innocent relative of a member of the rival gang.

"Guys, come on. It was an accident. He has to get home to take care of his fam, so he took a shortcut through y'all's territory. Just leave him alone."

The girl urged them to just let her bring the man back home, but one of the gang members sneered at her, pointing a gun at her face. "Keep out of this, kid. You ain't got no business messin' around here. Just go back to your little high school and don't tell anyone about this."

Anji looked at the man with a sneer, and he gazed at her with confusion and awe.

Her hands had begun glowing again, yellow and green hues illuminating the area around her as they emanated from her skin. She snarled and lunged at them, fingernails slashing into their faces and arms as her mind went into fight-or-flight mode. She made sure to scratch through their eyes to make sure they couldn't identify her or the man in case they decide to report to the police and are asked to determine the appearance of the attacker.

The girl helped the innocent man up off the floor and got him back home, watching the screaming gang members sob at the pain in their faces and limbs and torsos.

Did she feel bad? Somewhat. Was she going to help them heal? No. Did she have any idea as to how she did what she did? Absolutely not.

She smiled when he thanked her with a hug and a tearful grin. He offered her some money and food. She said no, thanked him for the offer, and left.

And then began her journey. She'd accumulated enough stuff from people's unused items they left at the General Supply Store for free, so now she could go off on her own. She walked for a long distance until she was safe and alone in an abandoned building, where she de-suited and made her way back to the main road. A backpack with one preexisting shoulder strap hung off her back. The other strap she made from an extra piece of cloth she found at the general store. The backpack was filled to the brim with warm clothes, some winter items, a lot of pantry foods like peanut butter and ramen and etc., a reusable water bottle, and a pen-sized water filter straw.

She was good for a few days.

So, she went along that road until she decided it was time to stop for the night. She slept out in the nearest clean and safe park, having kept her phone to make sure she could find safety no matter where she was. (Sure, she didn't have data because her family cut her off, but she could always use the free wifi at an internet cafe, Starbucks, or public library.)

That night at the park was the best sleep she had ever had in years.

She lay there on the soft grass, hands and legs outstretched as if she were making snow angels. Mind clear, body slowly softening in preparation for sleep, eyes wide open as she gazed upon the cosmos above her with childlike wonder. That was her first taste of heaven as a solitary heroine in the dark, cold world. But she didn't feel cold. She felt warm. In the chill of New York air, under the dark sky, she felt the warmth of peace and contentment with her life flow around her. That warmth lulled her to sleep.

And in the morning, she rose minutes after the sun did, her eyes straining to comprehend the glorious joy of his reds, oranges, and pinks as he once again blanketed the world in his loving light.

She scrambled to her feet and headed to the nearest public building to brush her teeth and wash her face. She couldn't go around this city while looking like an actual vagrant. But maybe that was a good cover idea…

She got refreshed in a Starbucks bathroom and bought herself a coffee to wake up more.

On her way back out, she smiled at a young mother playing with her little baby. The mother returned the sweet grin and went back to her child. Anji sighed happily and strolled out, deciding she had to get out of the US. Maybe go to Europe? But who could she go with? She didn't have that much money. She also wasn't about to ask the Avengers. Her best bet would be to go to the harbor and ask if any ship captain was willing to take her to Europe in return for healing favors.

So, she searched up the directions to the harbor with the Starbucks WiFi and took a screenshot of the info before going on her way.

Off to the docks she went, hands clutching at the straps of her backpack as her eyes flitted around nervously. This was starting to get scary, but she wouldn't dare go back to that place. She needed to get away, to go somewhere she could be at peace and just think. Because really, there's not much you can do besides think when the tapestry of your life turned into tatters with just six words: You don't belong in this family.


	2. Pain

Her feet and her map brought her to the pier, where she could only hope there was some way to the other side of the world. There was no hope for her on this hemisphere, not at that moment. She scoped around the area, trying to look for some kind of ship that was definitely going to Europe. Her best bet was England or the other Isles countries, but Italy was a good idea too.

(She took Italian in high school after forcing herself to learn it and failing. All this was after watching her first black-and-white Italian movie in middle school. She liked to think she was fluent in Italian, but some of the idioms caught her off guard every time she heard them.)

Her eyes drew towards some kind of uniformed ship crew talking amongst themselves and standing near what looked like a cruise ship docked a few feet away. The group of eight men consisted of all adults twenty or over. She approached them hesitantly, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed, lips bitten red in her nervousness. "Um, excuse me?" They didn't hear her. Again, she called to them, "Excuse me? Sirs?"

A few of them looked up at her voice. They raised eyebrows at the peculiar sight: a homeless-looking girl walking alone on a pier with nothing but a backpack over her shoulder and a phone in her hand.

The eldest of the men, likely the ship captain (based off of his hat), smiled gently. "Hello, miss." Sanjeevani got closer, standing just two feet from them. "What can I do for you?"

She asked in the sweetest, airiest, most innocent voice, "I was just wondering if there's any docked ships that are heading to Europe right now? My friend said he wanted to run away to France after experiencing some really harsh stuff here in the States. I wanted to make sure he's okay. I didn't know what to do or who to go to when he told me that, which is why I'm here."

He sighed, nodding his head. The man's kindly expression solidified, soft green gaze morphing into a cold, almost crystalline stare. "Alright. You know what ship he wanted to go on?"

"No, sir. He only said France. He mentioned something about a cargo ship, but I don't know what that entails."

The man looked at his subordinates and nodded. "Boys, start a search alert. Dear, what was his name again?"

"Max. We were homeless together for a few weeks. I finally got some extra cash when some person gave me fifty bucks or so, and we got cleaned up at the local homeless shelter before going for some shopping at Goodwill. Today will be a month from when I first went homeless, so I considered this a little anniversary for me and wanted to celebrate. But just as we were on our way to go for food, he told me his plan and ran off without another word. I lost him in the crowd and figured he'd come here to find that ship to France."

The sailors ate the story up like some kind of five-star meal, eyes wide and sympathetic for the faux plight of the girl. They nodded and sighed, shooting Sanjeevani genuine looks. The captain responded to her story with a harsh barked order to his men to begin a massive search through the docks. "You stay right here, young lady. We'll go find your friend. Two of you stay right here with her while we search," he grunted at his subordinates before hurrying off with the others. She didn't anticipate guards to stay at her side when the search began, and she didn't anticipate a lack of response to which ships were going to Europe. She believed the men would tell her what ship would travel to Europe and then all rush off to look for the apparent lost person, but two stayed behind. And now, she had to deduce another plan to distract these two so she could sneak away to figure out the nearest Europe-bound freight ship and get on without detection.

But maybe she didn't need to sneak away to look. The Internet was her toolbox. And her best tool? Google. She unlocked her phone, which she connected to the free wifi at the pier ( _What pier needs free and public wifi?_ she thought. _Maybe the sailors just wanna watch YouTube without wasting data._ ) and searched for the name of this pier and looked for its schedule, assuming it would be like an airport, where all flights, arrivals, and departures were listed specifically. Of course, she had to remain discreet and not draw the sailors' attention, but that was not difficult.

What would truly test her was devising a way to get on that ship.

So, she made a little excuse (read: complete lie) that she had to go and tell the also homeless mutual friends of hers and Max's that he was going to be found. The sailors guarding her bought the excuse and hurried away to assist with the search. It seems they didn't enjoy watching over her like a couple of babysitters. Sanjeevani had no issue with that.

She sprinted off and continued her Googling, eventually finding three ships headed for Europe from the port that day. One was going to France, the other to Greece, and the last to England.

England would be of no help in case she had to get away from police or the central gov. She would have nowhere to run on an island. Greece was too far and too economically unsafe in case she had to remain awhile. France sounded good. And in case she had to go somewhere she knew the language, she could go to Italy or even Spain. And just going off of her dark skin tone and body type, she could probably pass for a hobo or street dancer if she wanted to conceal herself from the eyes of Big Brother.

She checked the info of docking area, time of departure, time of arrival, and type of cargo of the France ship. The behemoth actually contained thousands of crates of ammunition and weapons, among other military items. At that realization, Sanjeevani automatically regretted her every decision. But she couldn't turn back now.

She secretly made her way to the docking area of the France-bound ship, sneaking around in the shadows and hidden corners of the shipyard. By some kind of weird divine intervention, no one even noticed her although sailors searched and occupied every area of the pier. Presumably, they all received intel that some teenager planned to stowaway on one of the ships, so they rushed away to prevent that, all the while not realizing that the girl who gave them the intel was actually the prospective stowaway.

Getting on the ship seemed another difficulty, but there seemed to be a way in for her. As she stood at the edge of the water where the ship waited with long side parallel to the dock, her eyes spotted a slightly ajar door of a massive crate standing a few feet away from her. After checking the label on the crate, she knew this was her ride to France. She tucked the crowbar she found on the ground into her backpack as a way out of the crate before crawling inside the giant wooden box. Thank goodness, it only housed military supplies like backpacks, metal dishware, and eating utensils.

Sanjeevani held the wooden door open as far as physically possible before slipping in. She sat down on a pile of plastic-sealed backpacks for cushion on the long journey. She kept breathing as soft as she could manage in order to prevent people from realizing that she was in there. That was a risk she didn't want to ever take.

Her heart plummeted when some tall, human shadows fell through the light of the open crack. No one entered, but instead, the crate was nailed shut. Damn good idea it was to bring that crowbar along. She tucked herself up and simply waited for the sudden and nauseating movement associated with sailing.

She slowly realized how lucky she was this entire time. Not only did everyone buy her story, but she got into this crate with no one noticing. She looked around her and felt confusion fill her mind when she noticed how empty the crate was and when she realized the fact that a crowbar sat right next to it. So, clearly, someone had opened the crate and taken out the items inside before leaving the weapon at the scene of the crime. Her body swayed violently when the crate lifted off the ground and was dropped onto a conveyor belt that slid into the hull of the ship. Even more luck. What god was watching over her at that moment?

She rubbed her face and groaned impossibly soft when the conveyor belt noises ended abruptly. She had looped herself into this whole mess. Food and water weren't much of an issue. She had packed enough to last her weeks. Clothes weren't much of an issue. But air and a place to leave excrement? That was an issue. And she couldn't open the crate just yet. Her first solution to the two problems involved pulling out the crowbar and using the sharp, long end to poke some holes in the wood of the crate so that she could breathe better.

The sailors would know. She concluded that eventually, she had to leave the crate and expose her plan to run off to Europe illegally. The sailors would eventually discover her.

But maybe she could slow that process down a little? She had a lot of time on her hands since the only thing she had to do was live and not go insane from isolation. She could teach herself how her powers worked. And when she came back to Tony and the Avengers, Loki could teach her with pride that she was a good enough student to take that initiative, and she wouldn't be an inexperienced child. Rather, she'd be a partly-self-taught student of the mystic arts. How awesome would that be?!

But how in the world was she going to use her abilities or whatever to slow her discovery? She didn't have much experience with them. Just a few hours.

She thought long and hard on what she knew about her abilities so far. She knows for sure that she can heal the human body. Most likely, because the powers came from within her and not somewhere outside her body, they were caused by a mutation. That means, the healing is science-based, not magic based. Best explanation of how her powers work would be with a metaphor.

Do you, dear reader, remember chemistry class? Maybe biology class? Either way, you at some point in your life learned about catalysts. They improve the function and speed of a reaction without participating in said reaction. Catalysts decrease the activation energy of the reaction and allow the process to reach that energy threshold sooner so that the reaction can occur more quickly.

Sanjeevani figured her powers worked the same way. She strengthens and speeds up the natural healing process of the human body without directly affecting the injury. So if her powers allow her to manipulate the body's regular repair functions, why wouldn't they be able to manipulate other body systems?

Her idea was, if she can utilize the body's healing process to fix wounds, why couldn't she use the body's digestive and filtering systems to avoid excretory processes? She could possibly utilize the unused food wastes in excrement by altering her digestive system to drain even more of the materials in excrement so that the only substance to be removed from the body is a highly concentrated, small pellet of waste. As for urine, she could force her body to change the urea with chemical reactions to make it into a substance to be used for energy.

This could possibly work. But she had to control all of her body processes first, though. She had to expand her powers from just repair to control over most or all the body's organ systems. And that would take time.

So she taught herself. She meditated for help with concentration (even though she didn't like meditating). She did stretches for help with physicality and exercise (the crate was huge enough that she could move around freely while standing at full height). She even scrolled through her biology class notes about the human body on the Google Docs app (she made sure all the files were available offline every time she got out of class).

So now, she waited. The meditation required the most patience. She had to do it often as a child because of her extremely religious family, but she never got the hang of it. Her family members quickly became experts at the peaceful activity, claiming to have seen gods or other worlds while in the quiet state. Her thoughts never stilled, always storming and swirling like the winds of a hurricane. Which is why every time she attempted to make herself feel peace, she couldn't even silence her mind long enough to get in the mood for peace. But this time, she had no choice but to persevere and try her hardest to focus.

That day she sat in the crate, she got comfortable and sat with her legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of the ship's swaying motions. Instead, her mind slowly wandered to the feeling of her body, the different sensations of her environment.

The slow and smooth air flowing in and out of her lungs. The gentle slide of her jeans against her skin. The floral, sweet aroma of her lavender-coconut deodorant. The warm darkness behind her eyelids. The sunny aftertaste of her strawberry-banana protein shake on her tongue. The ship's gentle creaking and moaning sounds rushing against her eardrums. The roughness of her elbows against the smooth cotton of her button-down. The almost gritty rub of the wooden floor against her bare feet.

(She had removed her shoes for the sake of comfort.)

And somewhere in that symphony of sensation, she felt her consciousness become acutely aware of the complex inner workings of the factory that is the human body. She could sense her blood flow through her veins and arteries, meeting in an intimate dance of give and take in her capillaries. She could sense the rising and falling of her various nutrients in her bloodstream. Blood-glucose decreased as her body lessened its energy use while in the meditative state. Meanwhile, she felt sodium and potassium increase to supply her nerves and neurons with sufficient ions for more efficient synapses. She could even feel her hormones alter in response to the change in mental state and function.

She felt her kidneys clear her blood of wastes and try to re-purpose them for her betterment. She felt her muscles relax one by one as her mind expanded to feel more of the body it ruled. She felt the marrow of her bones create faster and faster, pumping more and more blood cells into her body to allow for greater oxygen transport from her lungs to her brain in order to facilitate the new activity. Her breathing deepened, but did not quicken.

She knew now why people loved meditation so much. It made them more aware of their own bodies. In this aspect, in her own way of doing it, she could appreciate — maybe even enjoy — meditation as not just an activity for health, but for her own self-awareness of her body and for her improvement of ability.

Another moment or two passed and out of nowhere, her mind flooded with thoughts and feelings and ideas. It felt like an avalanche of information dumped into her brain. But it didn't overwhelm her. Instead of fear, she experienced awe. The feeling of true meditation had awakened something deeply grounded in her body and at long last, her mind and body connected in this flourishing, terrifying, beautiful rush of sensory information.

She believed the experience was akin to realizing you fell in love with someone for the first time since meeting them. All is well until that moment that you recognize your feelings are much deeper than you originally anticipated and your heart floods with all the emotions.

The same happened to her, but instead of love and heart, it was bodily awareness and brain. But the all-encompassing, powerful nature of the rush is the same.

She breathed softly, sweetly, finally _feeling_ herself live. It's one thing to know you're alive. It's one thing to be told you're alive. It's another thing to feel you're alive. And truly, it is beautiful. She could sense every movement and action her body made with or without her, and her heart lifted with the ecstasy of it all.

But her luck and joy ended there. Because as she was drowning herself in those sensations and breathing normally, some of the sailors had descended into the hull to take an inventory of all the items there, only to hear breathing come from one of the massive, ten- by six- by seven-foot wooden crates.

They each took a route, scanning through the aisles, ears straining to hear every movement and noise besides those of their own. Finally, one of them heard breathing coming from a crate close to the wall of the hull, soft and airy and feminine. He wasn't sure what that sound was. Maybe an animal had gotten in? But no animal he knew of breathed like that. So, he grabbed his two companions, and the three labored to pry open the crate doors.

To their shock and awe, some girl sat in the crate, leaning against some kind of plastic-enclosed cloth packages. White and gold light emanated from her skin, as if the Sun had come down to Earth and sat in this crate. Her eyes, previously screwed shut in focus, shot open at the sound of the men shuffling their feet. The eyes, too, glowed white with an almost inhuman light. The girl gasped for air and scrambled away from them, the light in her eyes dimming and then disappearing to reveal deep, ebony irises. She yelped and tried to shield herself from them, but they only held their hands up calmly, trying to not freak out the girl or themselves.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Kid, it's alright. Relax, relax. It's fine. Don't scream, please?" pleaded the sailor who'd found her. He walked forward slowly, carefully. "My name is Al, and these guys are my friends Luke and Matthew. We're sailors. How did you get here? What are you? Are you hurt?"

Sanjeevani panicked internally, trying in vain to conceal her raw terror, for her hesitant smiles and shaking hands were all that the sailors could focus on. "I-I...I'm trying to get to France. I work for the Avengers, I think. And I'm not hurt, but…" She coughed, her mind having returned to its non-meditative state, which forced her body back into its regular functioning. She couldn't breathe well in that disgusting, musty air. "I need air…" She coughed again.

The sailors looked at one another and stood up straight. Luke gently reached his hand out to the girl, his eyes aching to adjust to the darkness in the crate in his attempts to find the girl. "Just come with us. We'll figure out some way to help you."

She bit her lips and sniffled, flicking her wide eyes between the three of them. With a quivering hand, Sanjeevani grasped Luke's hand and let him help her out. Before exiting completely, she pulled her backpack over her shoulder and secretly tucked her phone into her back pocket. Luke smiled slowly as she winced at the bright overhead lights. "What's your name, sweetie? We'll try and get you back to-"

The girl curled in on herself, shaking her head quickly. The man noticed her changed state and put his hands up gently. "It's okay, it's okay. We won't send you back. But we need to talk to someone about you. We can't keep you a secret from our superiors; otherwise we'll get in a lot of trouble. Okay?"

At her curt nod, they simultaneously let out sighs of relief, leading the girl up to the Captain's office so they could all work something out. Better to go to him than the intermediates, who really wouldn't understand their dilemma.

Sanjeevani stared at everything around her as if she'd never been in a ship before. Truly, she hadn't. This entire experience felt somewhat like a dream. The sailors directed her with gentle pushes and soft words, trying to not overwhelm her after the weirdness they'd seen. While the young woman gazed at her surroundings with childish awe, the men secretly discussed in French who she was and what would happen to her once they talked to the Captain.

The Captain's office stood at the forefront of the ship, just under the deck. The older man rushed through paperwork at his desk, signing and reading like the Devil himself was helping the Captain finish his work. At hearing the customary three knocks of his subordinates, he called for the four youths awaiting his permission outside to come in. He watched agape as the three young sailors introduced the young woman to him, explaining where they found her.

He frowned deeply, motioning for the four of them to sit in the chairs across from him. With a grunt, he rubbed his temples. "Explain to me exactly what is going on here."

Luke spoke hesitantly. "We were doing inventory, sir. Checking what all was down there and how many people we'd need to help move it off once we reach the docks. I was strolling through an aisle and heard breathing from one of the boxes. It sounded like an animal, but it was too human to be a cat or something like that. I went to check it out, and it sounded actually human. Thinking someone was thrown in there intentionally, we pried it open and found this girl glowing and meditating. We made a lot of noise, so her eyes opened really quick as soon as we had the crate open. Her eyes were glowing too. But we moved, and she got scared and jumped back, trying to get away from us. We slowly got her out, but she didn't tell us much except that she wants to go to France, works for the Avengers, and had a hard time breathing."

The Captain pursed his lips, startling gray eyes glaring into the young woman's face. She squirmed in her seat, looking to Luke for reassurance. At his calm smile, she turned back to the older man, still clearly frightened. "Miss, I hope you know that trespassing on nautical vessels is a criminal offense. This ship is property of the US Military, and as such, civilians are not authorized to be here. If you go back to the mainland, you will be punished severely."

The girl looked down, hugging herself weakly. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break any laws. But I had to get out of there. That city. That country. I need to get away, so this was the easiest."

"Do you at least have any documentation for arrival in France?" the man asked, knowing the answer would likely be no. At the shake of her head, he confirmed his theory. "Alright, we can do some things. First option, you can ride with us to France, where one of our men will help you apply for asylum there. Second option, I can radio a nearby ship that is willing to give you safe passage to France, where you'll need to apply for asylum on your own, or you can be sent back to the States, where you'll have to go through trial for trespassing on Military property."

Sanjeevani looked at the floor, mind sprinting to think of what to do. An idea came to her out of the blue. She locked eyes with the Captain. "Can I suggest a fourth option?"

He huffed. "We'll see. What's your idea?"

"I have certain powers. I can't say why I have them, and I can't tell you my name, but I can definitely help somehow. I have healing abilities. I can reverse any injury, as long as any bullets or outside materials are removed. I can even remove infections from the body. Not genetic diseases, but anything caused by a bacterium, fungus, protist, or virus. In exchange for my safe passage to France and non-reporting of my presence on this ship, I'll heal all your men. All of them. Almost anything they got, I'll heal," promised the young woman.

The Captain's eyes widened. Truly, this seemed like such a good offer. Many of his men had gotten long-lasting injuries that weakened them enough to be a bother, but not enough to keep them from serving. Not to mention, plenty had arrived sick because they had no other source of income. Even his ladies struggled with monthlies and all kinds of health and stress-related issues that none of the doctors solved yet. But if the girl was lying, he'd have a huge case on his hands, as well as many lawsuits. He gave the teen a dark glare. "What's the guarantee that you're not lying to me?"

She smiled a little, almost smirking at his question. "What ails you, Captain?"

The way she worded it, the question almost seemed like a trap. But he had to be sure before helping her. "I have a lot of scarring on my liver. Drank too much as a teen. And my back muscles are constantly stiff, no matter how much physical therapy."

She stood up and walked to his side of the desk. He turned towards her, and she held her hands up. "Can you unbutton your collar or something, please? I need a skin-to-skin connection to work."

Already uncomfortable with her presence, the Captain begrudgingly undid the first three buttons of his coat. She rested her hands on his neck as if holding something precious and fragile. That wasn't untrue. Her thumbs pressed against the pulse-points under his jaws. Her hands began to glow with some kind of holy light, skin giving off fluctuations of white and gold. The Captain gasped at the feeling of buzzing against his neck. The girl's eyes had shut tightly for focus, and the older man could only watch in awe as she did what she promised.

He felt his body change slowly. He couldn't sense his liver, but he could sense his back, which had started to loosen and tighten in slow contractions. Once she removed her hands from his neck and stepped away, the Captain stood up and almost jumped for joy. Not only had the girl freed him of back pain, she somehow healed him enough to make him feel twenty again.

He stared at her in surprise, smiling slowly. "If you can do that, miss, we'd be glad to help you to France." She grinned back at him brightly, curtsying playfully.

"It would be my honor, sir."

* * *

Her work began that evening during supper. Of course, everyone was eating much earlier than she ever ate while at home with her- with her people: six o'clock on the dot. She followed Luke and his colleagues to the behemoth mess hall, where half of the sailors sat around long tables, with plates full of chicken and veggies, sipping from tall metal cups: they could only choose between juice, milk, and water.

Sanjeevani immediately regretted existing when Luke banged his hand against the wall beside the door after walking into the mess hall. Everyone whipped around to look at him, and he gave them a cocky grin. "Can I have everyone's attention, please? We have a stowaway aboard. She's kind of special, though. The Captain approved her presence here. In exchange for her safe travels to France, she'll heal us. Kind of has superpowers of some sort. The kid works for the Avengers. So, whoever wants to be healed, line up just beside the door."

Deafening silence.

Painful lack of movement.

Frightening peace.

Sanjeevani whispered to her companion bemusedly, "They need a demonstration." Luke huffed in agreement and stepped closer to her, carefully pulling his collar down far enough to reveal some skin.

Everyone watched uncomfortably. The young woman sighed, breathing deeply to put her brain in the right mentality to focus on healing.

She gingerly cupped his neck like she'd done with the Captain earlier. Again, her thumbs rested on his pulse-points. Luke stiffened at the feeling of someone touching such a vulnerable spot. She murmured, "Just trust me, okay? Please." When his muscles finally relaxed, she resumed her work. She dug into the warm, light feeling inside her and pulled it out once more to heal his burns and scars.

Luke mumbled quietly, "Arthritis in my knees, pneumonia scars, headache." He pouted at her quiet giggle of amusement at the last ailment. "Doctors are supposed to be nice."

She smiled at him sweetly, crooning, "I'm not a doctor. I'm a miracle worker. Big difference."

He rolled his eyes. "Get on with it. You're so dramatic."

She gave an airy laugh and focused again, closing her eyes once more. With one more deep breath in, her hands illuminated, giving off warm light. Luke closed his eyes as well and let the warmth surround him like a blanket. After a few moments of the comforting heat, he felt his knees lose their discomfort. He felt his lungs expand and clear like fresh sponges. He felt his headache simmer away.

Sanjeevani pulled away, smiling softly at his awestruck expression. "Better?" He rubbed his hands together and bent his knees a few times, sighing in deep relief.

He smiled. "Extremely. You probably just made it so I never need a doctor again."

She laughed. "Not really. I didn't turn you into Captain America. I only made sure those specific issues are dealt with. You can still get colds and sickness and shit. I'm a healer, not a goddess. So please still take care of yourself and go to the doctor if necessary. I don't exist to ban death. That's not my job. My job is to fix bodies. That's it. No more, no less. Also, I can't be everywhere at the same time."

Having seen her abilities, some of the seated sailors stood and formed a small line in front of the girl, who grinned widely at Luke. "So now that you're better, get me some dinner, please? Preferably vegetarian. Eggs are fine. My energy's gotta come from somewhere, you know."

Still rolling his eyes at her, Luke strolled away towards the food line to get the new medic some sustenance. Sanjeevani smiled childishly at everyone. "Wow. Five people already? I should make this a business." Matthew smacked the back of her head, shooting a playful warning glare. She stuck her tongue out at him and huffed. "You could be at least somewhat helpful, you know. Maybe get me and my people some chairs? Come on, bro."

The tall man shook his head in exasperation as he sought out a couple of unused stools for the idiotic teen and her patients.

Sanjeevani spent the rest of the day healing and eating, talking to a few people who basically interviewed her about her powers. She explained what little she figured the Avengers wouldn't mind her sharing, like the disowning by her parents, her first meeting with Doctor Strange, and her subsequent assistance to the Avengers' post-war efforts. Minor things. She didn't dare divulge anything about her dimensional travels from her reality to this one, her real name, or even her nation of origin. She couldn't risk her safety like that.

But most of the sailors didn't suspect anything, choosing to simply receive her help and healing without question or doubt.

Some suspected there was more to her story than she had told them, but they didn't interrogate further because Luke's little trio had taken to the young woman like a group of guard dogs protecting their young owner. Some of their fellow sea-goers thought the behavior cute. Others thought it a nuisance and a waste of time on the men's part. Sanjeevani didn't seem to care either way.

The daytime ticked by slowly, each minute an hour, each hour a day. However, there was still movement, unlike the nighttime, which seemed an eternity with each passing minute. The daytime held her joy, her light and love and smiles. But the nighttime held her agony, her darkness and suffering and screams.

It shocked her that no one heard her screams of pain. Not of the body, no. She was healthy as could be. No, her pains existed in her heart.

Every night, she would sleep a few hours with the others in the women's barracks and woke up at exactly one-thirty in the morning, when everyone slept the deepest. She hurried up to the deck, where only the people working the night shift remained alert and awake as sentinels of the ship. She walked up to the very front of the ship and sat down on the hard metal floor, clutching the white railings. And she screamed.

At first, the awake sailors startled and rushed over to see what the problem was. When she explained herself and struggles and her need to mourn, they left her alone from then on, knowing she needed the loneliness.

She would scream and sob and cry like she was mourning the death of a friend, because technically, she was. Her happiness and hope, her only true friends in life, had died that day she was cast out of her family. She didn't speak with anyone else in the family, not feeling welcome whenever she went to their homes in India or in the US. Her only family were her few friends, her immediate family, and her two cousins plus their children. She had no one else. The last bits of her soul and life died away when she was told she didn't belong. So of course she mourned.

Every night, she ascended to the deck with mind ready for pain and body ready for crying. And when she descended below deck once more, she went with mind broken from pain and body weak from crying. But never once did she falter or skip on her mourning. Every night for the fourteen-day journey she wailed her pain into the darkness of the night sky, hoping for some kind of closure or cease to her suffering. She wouldn't find closure there, she knew. But she knew nothing else. Nothing but the heartbroken screams reverberating in her mind and the steady beat of her mother's mrudangam dancing in her heart.

The first night she decided to dance instead of scream was the night she realized she missed the family of hers that tossed her away like refuse. It was also the night she lost her voice and couldn't scream anymore.

She had no anklets. She had no jewelry, nothing to remind her of what she felt like on stage or at home. This night, the wind tore at the ship, rocking it back and forth as the seas swayed to the howling song in the cruel breeze. So she made do with what she had. She tied her hair up in a braid and grabbed her scarf, laying the middle over her shoulder. She pulled it across her body like a purse before looping both ends around her hips once and tying the loose ends together.

Sanjeevani stepped out of the barracks and headed towards the deck, inhaling sharply when the cold wind and rain slapped her in the face. Instead of returning to the warmth of her bed, she stepped forward to the middle of the deck, not backing away from the challenge of dancing during a storm. Oh, her mother would have been so proud, she thought.

Hands pressed together in prayer, she closed her eyes and imagined the first song she'd performed on a stage with her mother as the singer. She felt her body envelop with excited warmth and joy. She hadn't felt this in so long.

She clung to that ecstasy and began the dance, feet thumping in time with an unheard beat and body swaying to an unheard melody. As the winds quickened, her feet moved faster, pressing and carrying her around the front deck with an almost unholy speed. At the sound of her footsteps, some of the sailors awoke quickly, namely Luke and Matthew, who couldn't sleep well that night. They rushed up to the deck, terrified that it was an attack or some kind of major weather issue that no one realized.

Instead, they found their youngest companion whirling around the deck in a dance that they couldn't recognize nor understand. She had closed her eyes too, completely lost in her memories. They wanted to rush forward and stop her, fearful that she would topple over a railing with the violent shoves of the wind and rain. But their fear of experiencing the same was even greater.

Unable to watch the girl get thrown around more and more with the rising rains, Luke sprinted ahead and captured Sanjeevani in a tight hug, trying to get her to look at him. The girl opened her eyes at last and gazed at his face weakly before collapsing against him in a helpless heap.

He carried her down to the infirmary as she cried into his neck and shoulder, both youths soaked from the storms unleashed on the deck. He set her on a bed and tried to get an explanation out of her. She said nothing, simply sobbing pathetically into her hands. Luke threw a look to Matthew, who rushed away to get some scrubs for the girl so she could cry in warmer clothes. In the meantime, Luke dried off her hair with a fresh towel, cooing gently in an attempt to soothe the crying teen.

She accepted his care without protest, but also without words in general.

Luke only received an explanation from Sanjeevani after Matthew had settled down and tried to talk to her as well. She gazed at them with those melancholy doe eyes, and they couldn't help but feel her pain, though unaware of its cause. "You guys know I was disowned. I have nothing left. Nothing at all. The Avengers are nice, but that's it. Nice. They're not friends or family. More like a foster care group. I miss my life. I can never get it back, so I'm mourning. I'm mourning everything I lost when I discovered this healing ability of mine. It hurts. I can help so many people, but no one can help me. Not with these specific things, anyway. It may sound dumb, but really. I have nothing going for me except my powers and my dance. What future do I have when I lost my entire past? What's the point of trying to help all these people when these powers are the reason for my struggle?"

Matthew seemed offended at her words. But it wasn't really offense. It was something else. Disappointment? "So you don't like helping people even though you have the power to do it."

Sanjeevani snarled at him. "Don't ever fucking say that. This isn't about me being a whiny teen. This is about how I have this cursed power over my head. All these people are getting healed and fixed, and I just have to watch on hopelessly as they enjoy the fruits of my struggle and pain. I GOT DISOWNED BECAUSE OF THIS POWER. I should be getting rid of it. But instead, I sit and fix all these people with no way to fix myself. It's unfair!"

Luke held up his hands, trying to calm the two of them. "Guys, please. Relax. Calm down. Please." He turned to his friend, giving the man a strict look. "She's been through a lot. We can't just expect her to follow through with all of our morals and ideals. They don't apply to her the same way." He then switched focus to the young woman, who still seethed with rage. "And you need to think about what you say. Life is always going to be unfair. That's how it is. We can't prevent that. You have to talk carefully about your struggles, or your misunderstandings will get you in trouble, got it?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Now both of you just rest. We've only got a few days left until we reach Brittany. Forgive each other and sleep. We all need to just do our jobs. And then you can go your separate ways, understood?" When neither of them responded, he growled lowly. "I said, _understood_?"

Sanjeevani huffed out a quiet, "Yes, sir," as Matthew nodded begrudgingly. Luke hummed in approval and told Matthew to head back to the barracks because he needed to ask the 'kiddo' something in private. The taller man squinted at his colleague.

Matthew was something of an overprotective brother to all the ladies on the ship. No matter who he traveled with, he always kept an eye out for the women, trying to protect them like he protected his nieces and daughter back home in California. He didn't trust anyone with young women, no matter the gender or age of the other person. He should have trust in his friends, but he couldn't take a chance. It was weird to many, but not to him, who was raised in a family that believed in protecting the vulnerable (kids, women, elderly, sick) no matter how unfamiliar or different from him. After what happened to his aunt when she was this kid's age…he couldn't take any chances with others' safety.

The young woman noticed Matthew's expression and tried to give him a sincere, relaxed look. She may have just gotten into an argument with him, but she always appreciated a protective nature in her friends and acquaintances. When he still didn't relax, she sat up on her knees and held her arms out to him.

Lanky and uncoordinated as he is, the man stepped forward and enfolded the young girl in a hug, pressing her face to his neck. She hummed and let herself lean into his warm embrace. They didn't say anything, only communicating through their eyes. Sanjeevani pulled back a few inches to look the man in the face and reassure him. At his softening looks, she smiled and kissed his cheek sweetly, pressing her other hand to his opposite cheek. He returned the genuine grin and walked back to the male barracks.

Luke smiled and watched her get comfortable in the bed again. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. "Who are you?"

She groaned. "I can't tell you, man."

He frowned, taking her hand. "Why not?"

Her eyes narrowed and gazed right into his face. No hesitation, no anger, no outright emotion, she explained with the kindest tone, "Some things just aren't meant for normal ears, Luke. There are parts of my life that no one can know unless they plan to die with me." Her intense words had the poor man shivering and looking away, as if a cold blast of air just flushed through the room.

He breathed slowly. "Will you at least tell me your real name? I know it's not Angie."

She smiled sadly. "Nope. You'll know once I rejoin the Avengers, okay?"

Luke rubbed his face. "You don't trust me."

To his surprise, the girl recoiled with a cold scowl. "Excuse me? You've known me for all of almost two weeks."

He reversed a moment. "Whoa, hold on. I mean, like, you healed us. You saw into our souls and stuff. I thought we were like, close friends." Sanjeevani stared at him like he'd grown a third arm from his neck.

"What do you think I can do?"

"What?"

She let out a hysterical laugh. Thankfully, everyone in the ship was healed at that point, so the infirmary was abandoned. "Dude, oh my god. Luke, I'm not a magician. I can only heal. I only use people's natural bodily healing processes to fix their injuries and organs. I don't use magic."

His face inflamed, and he threw his hands up to cover his eyes. "Oh god. I just humiliated myself for eternity, didn't I?"

She giggled. "Kinda, yeah." Her hand landed gently on his shoulder. "But it's fine. Just chill. I've embarrassed myself plenty." The young man peeked at his female companion through the grates of his fingers. After calming down, he smiled tiredly.

"So when are you going back to the Avengers?"

Sanjeevani hummed whimsically, eyes gazing distantly. "After I've made peace with myself. Until then. I'll be in Europe, exploring, learning, trying to teach myself to be the best me possible."

"Sounds pretty wise for someone who's only just started college," commented the elder of the two.

She winked. "You learn a lot of things when you're in emotional pain all the time."

His laugh rang through the empty space. "You should have gone into writing or theater, not crime-fighting."

Her smile melted, and she curled in on herself like an angry armadillo, but he couldn't understand why. She scowled before shaking her head to rid herself of the anger. The guy wouldn't know why she acted like that. He didn't deserve the lecture she wanted to give him. So, she sighed and rubbed his shoulder. "Just get to bed, yeah? We'll talk in the morning."

With one last uneasy gaze to his female friend, Luke gave her a hug and rushed away to the barracks.

Too tired to continue mourning, Sanjeevani knocked out almost immediately and only woke up at the sound of the Captain's voice on the intercom calling for everyone to get to work. She clambered out of bed, sprinting to the ladies' showers after almost toppling to the floor in her search for her toothbrush and toothpaste, which actually laid hidden at the bottom of her backpack. The other women chuckled and greeted her, amused at the young girl's frantic daylight disposition. She eventually slowed down and waited patiently for her turn, smiling sheepishly when some of the older girls giggled at her.

The oldest of the female sailors on the ship smiled dimly at the girl as per her usual strict mannerism. The girl returned the small smile with a bright, childish grin. Truly, in her week and four days so far of healing and working on the ship, Sanjeevani's favorite patient was the strong mother of five that basically ran the women's barracks.

The woman had a myriad of issues ranging from extreme rheumatoid arthritis to various bodily scars from surgery (including Cesarean and mastectomy), and severe brain damage to the right temporal lobe and loss of hearing because of an accident involving hazardous use of a firearm. The woman, who referred to herself as Mrs. Baxter, never elaborated on the accident, leaving the girl to ponder on what had happened to the woman that would cause such a peculiar injury to the brain.

However, despite the many issues, Mrs. Baxter never once complained during the healing process, accepting the help obediently and calmly. She would tell of pain, but in the same breath claimed that the pain wasn't unbearable and that Sanjeevani should continue as normal.

The young woman would hesitate at those words, unsure of what to do, but eventually carried on with great care and gentleness so as to not cause further pain or harm to the woman. After a day or two of healing sessions, Mrs. Baxter had returned to full health, arthritis eliminated, scars repaired, tissue restored (in the case of the mastectomy), brain damage reversed, and hearing slowly redeveloping. Mrs. Baxter thought the healer girl a kind of miracle worker, undoing years of damage and suffering to bring the sailors back to full capacity, and the two became close friends of few words.

Sanjeevani pushed herself to finish readying herself within twenty-five minutes. To her excitement, she got ready in twenty minutes on the dot. She sprinted to the mess hall and slid in with a hazardous screech of her shoes rubbing against the floor.

The sailors burst into loud laughter at her entrance, a couple of them inviting her to their respective table of friends. Instead of sitting with her usual companions Luke and Matthew, the girl decided to join a group she'd never really talked to often. Their youngest had held his hand out to motion her towards them. With a giggle of exhaustion and amusement, Sanjeevani plopped herself down on the metal bench besides the guy her age. The others looked like giants, all height and bulk and no lack of muscle.

They gazed down at her coldly, but softened when their youngest started speaking to her animatedly. She smiled brightly at him, the two hugging as if they had been close friends their entire lives.

"Oh, speaking of your health, how's the OCD these days? Any better at all?" she probed. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders while wrapping an arm around hers.

He gave a slow, sad smile. "What do I tell ya, doll? It ain't goin' nowhere. My ma and pa have done all they could. All the ther'py and medication I could ever want. Nothin' works. Not in my case, at least. Don't worry your little head about it. I'll just deal. Gotta do what we gotta do, right? That's just how the Lord creates us sometimes." By the end of his explanation, the poor youth's shoulders had slumped in disappointment while his eyes dimmed like a light was being turned off slowly. He tried to smile wider, but his attempt at faking contentment didn't work on her.

She patted his hand. "I mean…the brain is part of the body too. Most, if not all, mental disorders come from an imbalance of neurotransmitters in the brain. I can try and see if I can find a way to bring your neurotransmitters back to stable levels. I haven't ever done brain healing yet, so this may take some time since I'm learning on my own."

"Girl, come on. You got other people to heal and help. We always get injured. You got stuff to do. Don't waste time on-" the young man ceased his statement at noticing her glare.

Through clenched teeth and fiery eyes, she murmured "No human is a waste of time. You aren't, and no one else is. Martin, your disorder keeps you from even being able to focus on your work! That's bad for you, not me! Please just let me try. Let me try. It's worse if I give up now. At least if I try, I can say that I worked my hardest. But if I give up without doing anything, I've failed."

The two locked eyes for a few seconds, and then both smiled. Martin nodded, and Sanjeevani let out a happy laugh, throwing her head back from joy. The two hugged tightly, faces pressed into shoulders to stop the tears. Martin pulled back and pinched her cheek, grinning. "If you weren't so mysterious about your past, I would have asked my family to adopt you by now, sugar."

With a playful snort, she punched his arm. "Oh hush. Just say you wanna keep in touch, darling. Don't do this whole adoption shtick. Seriously, it's beneath you."

The giant woman to Sanjeevani's right huffed a little laugh. "'Beneath you?' What is this, Hamlet?"

"Don't mention Hamlet around me. Worst play ever. Too many theories about it," complained the super-powered teen.

Martin snickered. "You don't like it because it has _too many theories_?"

She pouted, whining loudly, "It's exhausting, okay?! Too much work to think about all those crazy ideas. I just wanna read and be at peace without burning my brain trying to understand all these complex theories that have nothing to do with my enjoying the book. Seriously, too much to ask?"

The woman laughed bawdily, patting the girl's back just hard enough to leave a mark. "You're funny. I like you."

Sanjeevani grinned, snarking in reply, "That's what your girlfriend said last night when she slept over in my bunk." Collective hisses of mockery and oohing at the table.

The woman's eyes twinkled just a bit too much. "Funny, considering the fact that not even one person can fit on those bunks. These jokes are beneath you, kid." Screaming laughter from everyone at that table. Sanjeevani even fell backwards onto the metal floor with a hard thud. Frozen silence. And then more screaming laughter. The amusement ended when the Captain's voice thundered over the intercom in an announcement that they would be speeding ahead to reach the port by the end of the day due to weather concerns.

They all glanced at one another in slight surprise before hurriedly finishing breakfast to return to our posts. Sanjeevani ran up to the infirmary to start her work for the day.

She grabbed the black binder that contained records of when each patient came in and left, what their ailments were, and what their treatment was. She plopped herself down at the center of the large space full of hospital beds, privacy curtains, and doctors' desks. A few of the nurses and doctors were handling patients who were already there. Slight animosity existed between the young teen and the medical staff because of her quick healing abilities, but it ended when they realized she would leave today. They would still have work left to do.

People slowly came in with new injuries or ailments, and Sanjeevani greeted them with soft smiles, playful jokes, and gentle hands. It was no secret that many of the sailors preferred her to the doctors. Not just for the healing, which — for obvious reasons — was her specialty. Instead, they thought her easier to talk to, more personable, less angry at their pain.

But she didn't approve of that. So, like she always did, Sanjeevani explained to her current patient why they shouldn't hate on the doctors. "You guys think I'm nice because I'm younger and a better person. That's really mean to your docs who work with you guys all the time. I'm only nice because I don't know the struggles and suffering associated with healing people during battle. They have it so hard, trying to fix patients' injuries and soothe them despite their own wounds. They have to listen to all your problems and figure out ways to help you all quickly and efficiently without burning money. I don't need to worry about that. I use myself to heal. My own body. I'm just a more convenient and easy balm to soothe your wounds. I only need food and water to keep doing my work. But they don't have my abilities. They gotta use their skills and minds to help you. That's way harder. Not to mention, I won't always be here. They will. Respect them. Talk to them. Ask what they need instead of what you need. Offer a helping hand, and I bet you, they'll be much less thorny, okay?"

The thirty-something man simply huffed and walked away. Groaning, she threw her hands to her face and shook her head. "What does it take to get through to these people?"

"Chicken strips," joked the nurse, who was trying to learn Vine culture to get along with the younger woman.

Sanjeevani gave her dead stare. "Martha, I swear to god." The woman only laughed, patting the girl's head on her way to the water dispenser at the infirmary entrance. Anji grumbled, filling in info for the patient who just left.

The rest of the day, she drowned herself in her work, not wanting to provoke the imminent anxiety of being in a country where her only resources were the little Italian she spoke, her phone, and internet cafes. She really had no semblance of a clue as to what her next steps needed to be. At dinner time, Matthew led her back to the Captain's office to talk with the man about what they would do once the ship reached port-side.

Again, she sat in the middle of the three chairs across from the Captain, her two friends sitting on either side of her. Though this time, the Captain didn't glare her half to Hell.

With a calm smile, he pulled out a manila file of papers. "We got you some application papers needed to file for asylum. We set you up with a PADA agent, who helps asylum-seekers. You fill out this application, and we'll have someone drive you to the PADA location. They'll take care of things from there, but I'll just explain the process real quick."

Sanjeevani grew more alert, eyes focusing in on the man's face as her mind cleared to better process what she would hear. "After the application gets in, you go to the police prefecture within ten days and tell your story and then get the real application for asylum, which is called an OFPRA application. The OFPRA organization will determine if you're eligible for asylum."

She bit her lip. "And if I'm not?"

"You might be eligible for subsidiary protection, which means you're not exactly a refugee from a whole country's situation, but you're seeking protection for your own life and well-being. Or, you may be refused altogether, which means you'll have to appeal with the CDNA courts. For now, just fill out this form and get ready for setting foot on land again. We'll go from there."

Her smile lit up the room. "Thank you so much, Captain! Thank you!" The old man shook his head.

"Thank you, child. You healed me, my boys, and my girls. If I hadn't seen you do your thing up close, I would call you a miracle worker. Thank you. Go fill that out. Luke, stay with her for any translating stuff, lad."

The young sailor stood up, saluting the superior. "Yes sir. Come on, girl." Sanjeevani bounded after the man as he quickly headed away to the library/book-keeping area of the Captain's section. After saluting, Matthew hurried after the two.

The Captain sighed lowly as he watched the three youngsters sprint away. "Lord knows what that girl is gonna do when she reaches France. She's all alone over there. Hopefully someone will come for her soon, or else the UN will."

* * *

Sanjeevani did fill out the form quickly, correctly, and efficiently. She did prepare herself to get on land, packing her items and making sure everything was in its place. She did thank and say her goodbyes to everyone she wouldn't ever see after that day. But she also had a panic attack when one of her friends informed her that the ship would reach port in an hour.

It took a shot of morphine provided by one of the doctors, and an extensive amount of consoling and comforting from Matthew, Luke, and Mrs. Baxter to calm her down.

The morphine only slowed her down a little bit, not putting her to sleep at all. At the sailors' shock, she explained her nightly routine of editing and revising and manipulating her body's systems to ensure that she had the highest bodily efficiency to allow for the best work every morning. A doctor asked to study her, and the four's collective glares sent the older woman running away.

Sanjeevani clung to her friends until the ship's horn resounded throughout the massive vessel. She gazed at them, wide eyes and quivering lips and tearful looks. They walked her out of the ship together after taking care of their responsibilities. They themselves drove her down to the PADA to get the application submitted.

Life took a breath of fresh air for the young woman, who hesitantly took her first steps down the ramp. With Mrs. Baxter holding one hand, Matthew holding the other, and her backpack slung over her shoulders, Sanjeevani gently laid her feet down on the ground. She did nearly topple over from the sudden change in weight distribution (being on water is much less stable than being on land, obviously), but her friends caught her before she cracked her skull open on the concrete.

They walked out to the unloading area, where a sleek black car waited for them. Luke stepped forward first, opening the door before looking at the other three gently. Matthew encouraged Sanjeevani forward after Mrs. Baxter went in first. The older three members of the group assumed the young woman would prefer to be in the middle, where they could coddle and comfort her while journeying to the PADA office. Their assumption proved correct, when Sanjeevani curled against the elder woman after getting settled on the white leather seats. Luke got comfortable on the girl's right side, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders. She accepted the affections with soft sniffles.

Matthew had to sit in front due to his height, but otherwise, he would have sat back there too, no matter the momentary discomfort. The girl drowned herself in the others' stories of their trips to the City of Love and Lights. Mrs. Baxter's Paris visit was quite romantic, and surprisingly, Matthew's was quite rowdy and bold. Quite a contrast to his calm and aloof personality, Sanjeevani thought.

She didn't remember much of the drive there, mostly recalling the warm looks and gentle smiles of her friends who took time away from their duties to get her settled there safely. Even the arrival of the destination and the entrance inside passed by her mind like a blur.

Her friends stood at the door and said goodbye, telling her to be brave, promising to come to her aid if she needed them, giving her their phone numbers to keep in touch.

And they stood there until she couldn't see them anymore. She didn't know much French, only basic phrases and statements. She cautiously entered the large building, looking around for someone who could help her. Finding no one, she tried to follow the signs or understand what they meant with the little bit of general cognate-based French knowledge she had. It didn't help.

Finally, a security guard noticed her plight and, with a slightly sour expression and heavily-accented English, guided her to the lobby.

Sanjeevani tread lightly, making sure she stayed within her bounds as she walked, not daring to move away from the narrow path that she created for herself to avoid making big movements that would bring unwanted attention. She tried to make as little noise as possible and tried to walk as little as possible so she wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb. Another security guard in the lobby showed her where to sit, giving the young girl a scowling once-over before returning to her duty.

The teen sat in a chair at the corner of the large square of chairs in the middle of the room. Almost an hour later, an agent with white hair, blue eyes, bifocals, and wrinkled smile opened a wooden door across from her and called her name in a thick French accent. Shivering like a newborn fawn, the girl stood and followed the grey-suited old man through a complex net of hallways and doors to reach his office. A young woman in an impeccable black pencil skirt and white blouse stood next to the man's desk. Her hair lay over her shoulder in flowing curls, while her nimble, perfectly manicured hands clasped behind her back.

She suggested the girl sit in a comfortable-looking sofa positioned across from the agent's dark, looming leather seat. The young woman, Helena, spoke in silky smooth English, her French lilt peeking through the words. The man began to speak, eyes curiously gazing at the young teen. The woman translated, "What is your purpose for seeking asylum here in France?"

And Sanjeevani launched into her story, leaving out the right details like dimensional travel and the Avengers, while including her parents and the abuse she faced.

The man sat back in his seat as Helena explained what she was told, his mouth agape and pupils dilated. The interpreter smiled a bit when he asked her something. She looked at Sanjeevani with amusement. "He asks you to demonstrate your abilities."

The girl stood up, pushing her chair back a little. She adjusted her dark blue hoodie, looking up at the perfect woman. "Do you have any health issues that bother you?"

Helena raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "My feet have several fractures in them after an accident during a dance lesson. I teach ballet, and this is my side job. I need the money, but can't dance well anymore, so this interpretation work has become my primary source of income."

The girl sighed, nodding. "I get you. I dance Indian classical. Any kind of classical dance from any county really messes with your health. I have a lot of misplaced bones in my feet because they keep popping out of position." Helena hissed in sympathy, nodding her head.

Sanjeevani held out both her hands, smiling as the older woman laid her hands in the teen's palms. Again, her hands began to illuminate with gentle white and green, the colors racing away from her skin as if the girl were the sun, giving the world her warmth and light. Helena gasped, taking a step back, but returning to her original position at the gentle tugging feeling in her joints. In what felt like seconds, Helena felt her feet return to their usual health and condition, no discomfort or pain ailing her as she took quick steps around the room after the teen released her hands.

Sanjeevani smiled. "Good demonstration?" Helena hugged her neck tightly, nodding.

"The best."

The two hugged and smiled at one another. Sanjeevani plopped down in her seat, confidence slowly returning to her as Helena explained to the agent what had just occurred. The agent seemed to experience every kind of emotion at that moment, and by the end of it, he appeared exhausted beyond belief. He explained something to Helena, who said, "He says he wants to call the UN and ask what to do with you. Is that okay?" The girl, suddenly having lost all her confidence again, shook her head. "Okay. Then what do you want to do next? We have to tell someone. This is an extraordinary case. It's not something that can go through the asylum process simply."

"Is there any way we can keep all this confidential and go through the system as normal? I don't want any international attention at all."

Helena groaned, but conveyed the idea to the agent, who nodded in agreement.

By the end of the conversation, Sanjeevani and the agent came to a consensus. Her file would bypass the intermediate steps and go straight to the police prefecture, and she would fill out the OFPRA form, and then her case would undergo evaluation for asylum within the next three days to avoid suspicion or detection by other countries.

As for housing, the new asylum-seeker would live in a homeless shelter until she found a more stable residence later on. And food? Well, they didn't discuss that, but their overall message implied, 'Go figure that shit out on your own. You're nineteen, for fuck's sake.'

And now? She was off to get a taxi to the police prefecture. She just wanted to go there, get her shit done, and find someplace to sleep for the night. Living was exhausting as it is. This was too much. But she had to keep going. She hadn't even begun her journey. Her whole future was waiting for her. She wasn't about to let herself down. Not now. Not until she proved to herself that she was at least worthy of a happy life.

So, she pushed through. She ignored the cold looks of the police officers waiting outside the prefecture. She ignored the receptionist's obvious disgust and irritation. She ignored the chief's disgruntled, disguised disapproval of her presence. She focused in on obtaining and completing the OFPRA form, no matter how much those expressions hurt. No matter how painful those memories of her home city's hatred of her. No matter how heartbreaking the thought that in any place she went, just her appearance garnered disgust and spite from those around her.

Tears blurring her sight, she completed the form and handed it off to the appropriate person, asking the translator to tell the officer all that the PADA agent told her.

She avoided the officer's eyes and hurried away when he dismissed her, saying he would send off the case today and get the OFPRA decision to her by the end of tomorrow via the email she listed on the application.

So, she went into the streets again. Life began anew, but with the same aspects. The same anger towards the people who cast her out. The same pain at having been rejected by her own loved ones. The same helplessness to her imminent depression and suffering. The same resignation to the Universe's decisions on her life and how she will survive in this terrifyingly beautiful new home.


	3. Comfort

“Can you all please shut up? I’ve been at this for a solid hour, and none of you fools are allowing me the common courtesy of silence,” barked the extremely displeased Silvertongue. All he wanted was a few hours to read in peace without the Avengers bursting into his room every four minutes asking for help with something or other. In an attempt to be more personable and to connect with his new housemates, he’d offered his help to some of them with different tasks, and now they wouldn’t stop pestering him for help.

For example, the Trickster had made some helpful suggestions to Bruce while the scientist worked on a particularly complex project about super-humans’ biochemical processes in the brain and why they function as they do. Bruce seemed quite surprised at the magic-user’s random and deep knowledge about science and since then, the Hulk’s other half had been asking Loki for constant advice and opinions on the project.

After that, he offered Tony some help with lifting and repairing certain parts of the compound, and the genius pestered him to keep helping Tony build and improve the building since then, even though Loki had only helped because it seemed the short man was unable to handle the repairs alone.

Before helping both Tony and Banner, Loki had helped his brother work through a complex issue involving New Asgard and its people. A mischievous brat as he was, Loki knew much of Asgard’s complex policies and procedures, especially in running the government. After all, he ruled Asgard for a few years under the guise of Odin. He knew how to run shit. And because of this, Thor kept coming to ask Loki’s advice on matters of ruling New Asgard. Valkyrie was a good ruler in the moral sense, but she had no practical experience in leading the Asgardian people.

And now those three, and sometimes the others, came to his room at any available hours to ask him for something. He quickly grew fed up with the entire issue, and he took the time to scold them all right after lunch.

“And if any of you come to me with those ridiculous queries again, I will simply move back to New Asgard. Have I made myself clear?!” Loki sneered in satisfaction at everyone’s surprised expressions and guilty nods. “Absolutely pathetic. Now if anyone has any actual questions, they may ask them if I deem the time and manner appropriate. This would be a good moment to ask, because once I leave, I expect undisturbed time to myself.”

Tony sighed, looking up at the slowly relaxing former prince. “Any new info on the kid? It’s been weeks, Loki. How long will she need to be alone? I doubt she’s somewhere safe, knowing what you’ve told us about her so far.”

No one can understate Loki’s shock at the question. He hadn’t expected anyone to think about the girl, much less worry about her. It sounds cruel to say about his housemates, but he hadn’t heard even a hint of their concern for the young woman since her departure. He didn’t think these people would care so randomly.

With a sad smile, Tony continued. “I know she’s your responsibility or student or whatever, and that’s fine. That’s your decision, that’s your call. But she’s still a kid. She still needs to be taken care of and protected. We can’t do that when she’s so far away. When will she come back? And where is she?”

The god of mischief took a seat, grasping his head in both hands. “I do not wish to usurp her privacy and upset her. I shall only say that she is in Europe. As for when she will return, it may take weeks. Months. She needs all the time in the world to accept what had happened to her and to move on from her past. She needs to be at peace with herself. I can make no accurate predictions at the moment. I know her past, but she’s never experienced anything like this. New issues will still beguile me, no matter how well I know her.”

Natasha gently patted Tony’s shoulder. “We’ll wait. Like we always do.” The older man gave her a hesitant smile before nodding and returning to his lab.

Thor gazed at Loki closely once all the others had left, walking right up into his brother’s private space. He rested both massive hands on the smaller man’s shoulders. “Loki…” The two siblings locked eyes. “Loki, why do you hide your obvious concern for this girl? I know you well. Very well. You do worry for her. About her. Why do you pretend to be aloof or impartial?”

Eyes averted and voice shaking, the younger Odinson explained, “In my experience, brother, showing concern and affection for a child always ensures that the child will be taken from you. Always. Especially if the person caring for the child is me. I loved all three of my children, and you and Odin stole them from me.” Pale, nimble hands clenched tightly enough onto the end of a long black tunic. Already light-skinned knuckles blushed white. Loki breathed shakily, hunching over himself as violent shivers overtook his body. Thor wouldn’t assume aloud that Loki was going to cry, but the elder brother knew tears would come next.

“I have no guarantee that this girl won’t be taken from me if I openly express my concern for her. Being distant and indifferent about her when I’m around you all for a few months until her return is enough for me. I am to be her teacher. Not her mother, father, relative, or otherwise. I am simply to guide her path. But she is a mirror of me, of my childhood self, and so I am slightly fearful of losing her before I have helped her.”

“No, you’re not.” At Loki’s furious gaze, Thor retracted a little. “I mean, you’re not afraid for her. You don’t truly know her that well. You know her history and past and the things in her memory, but from her point of view. You don’t know her personality. And you surely don’t care enough for her when you don’t know her from your personal point of view.”

The smaller man pushed at his brother’s chest a little, eyes slowly wetting and reddening as white fists clenched into blue. Thor continued, “You’re worried for your children. You aren’t that concerned about her, you’re concerned about the fact that your children are in the same position as her: far away from you, in some kind of dangerous place, without ensured food supply or safety. That’s what you’re worried about. You don’t give a damn as to what happens to her because you don’t truly know her beyond what you’ve seen in her mind about her past. You think her strong enough to handle this on her own, or you would have brought her back here by now so she could be safe with you. But you are more concerned about your children whom you haven’t seen in centuries. Basically, you’re projecting your worries for your children onto her because she reminds you of them.”

Loki let out an angry scream and punched through a corner of a wall behind him, throwing his face into his hands as he began to sob desperately, knees slowly crumbling under his weight and position. His big brother, as protective as always, knelt with his younger sibling. Thor held his baby brother until he could no longer feel Loki’s sobs and whimpers against his body. “I just want my babies, Thor. I just want them…they haven’t seen me in centuries…what kind of a mother am I?!” More sobs and wails. More screaming. More desperate pleas to the heavens for his children to return.

The two clung to each other, Thor enveloping Loki in his arms while Loki crushed himself against his brother to hide from the world and keep his pain a secret. “I have not experienced even an iota of what you have lived, brother. But you needn’t fear it all any longer. No longer. I’m here now. Even though I have abandoned you many times, I’m here now. I will not leave you. You can cry, Loki. I’m here to hear it. I’m here to bear your burden with you. I know how heavy it is on your shoulders. I’ll be here.” Words spoken in softness, but with such passion that Loki could barely speak, instead opting to coil himself up and let Thor care for him.

That he did.

As if handling a child, Thor lifted his younger brother up in his arms, gingerly walking back to Loki’s room to let the man rest. Rage and sympathy burned with equal intensity in Thor’s heart, throwing off his mind and making him too thoughtless. He couldn’t comprehend his own guilt and love for his brother, who’d lived a life of torture since his birth.

But it would be like that no more. Thor would care for his broken brother until all the pieces were put back together. He swore it on the breath of every living thing on this planet: he would fix Loki, no matter the difficulty.

* * *

“I’m gonna die out here,” moaned the hopeless teen. Sanjeevani hesitantly walked around the city plaza, trying to keep track of her spending as she bought water and food (after her backpack supply ran out) before going to the homeless shelter. And even when she reached the shelter, she still felt hopeless.

A massive building like an apartment complex loomed over her menacingly. All dark brick and murky windows. Some lights were on for different rooms on the almost sixteen floors of the behemoth. The young woman carefully stepped inside and looked for the receptionist, spotting a desk in the lobby of the first floor. She walked towards the large wooden space and smiled nervously.

The elderly woman glanced up at the sight of Sanjeevani. She said something in French, which the teen didn’t understand at all. She bit her lip, hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she asked, “Anglais?” The French word for ‘English’ was one of the few French terms she’d learned from Duolingo when she still held interest in learning the complex Romance language. After advancing in Italian, she’d stopped learning French, but she hadn’t gotten very far in the first place.

The white-haired receptionist smiled gently, chuckling. Nimble fingers quivered as she dialed a number on the phone. A few words were exchanged with the person on the other side of the line, and in a few minutes, a young man with a dark beard and a turban covering his hair rushed towards the desk from an adjacent hallway. He spoke with the receptionist, who explained something.

Soft brown eyes glanced up at the young woman, who watched in curiosity as the Sikh youth spoke fluent but accented French with the old lady. He smiled at her after finishing his discussion.

He held his hand out, gaze gentle and sweet in an attempt to ease her down from her nervousness. “Hello. I am Ahmed. Welcome to France, my friend. Are you here for asylum?” She took note of his peculiar accent, smiling widely at the English before shaking his hand.

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.”

“There are a few things we need to handle before we get you settled in, okay? We need a few forms from the OFPRA process. Certification for housing, the initial application, and the OFPRA application. Do you have all three?” Ahmed questioned, eyes glancing at the receptionist quickly to make sure those were the required forms. At the elderly woman’s nod, he turned back to the teen, who held out the certificate and the copies of the two applications. He grasped the papers gently, scanning through to make sure all was in order before giving them to the receptionist for further examination. They were returned to Sanjeevani, who tucked them away in her backpack.

“Everything looks good, so we can go. Any preferences for rooming and such?”

She frowned. “Um, how are things organized? Like, is it a person per room, or is it like a giant gym with bunk beds?”

He shrugged. “It’s quite a bit like apartments or a hotel. Each unit has its own room. Usually, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are served downstairs by a wonderful organization that cooks on-site for the needy. But many families cook for themselves. Some rooms have kitchens, but only families have access to those.”

Sanjeevani mulled over the options and possible locations. “Put me in a room at the front of a hallway, closest to the elevator. If that option is available. If not, somewhere near the middle of a hallway.”

Scratching his beard lightly, Ahmed raised an eyebrow. He led the young woman to the elevators. “Any particular reason why?”

“Safety. If I’m closest to the elevator, I can see everyone who enters and exits my floor before the rest. And if I need to, I can warn the others about any possible threats. Just good to be a lookout, I guess,” she reasoned.

“Fair enough. There are a few rooms on the upper floors that are unoccupied and are close to the elevators.” He paused a moment in front of the elevator, ceasing all movement before pressing the button. “So why are you seeking asylum in France?”

She smiled. “Secret. I’ll only tell you once I know OFPRA’s decision. I’m a weird case, and if I tell you now, you’ll know. And if I’m rejected, I’ll leave with no way to keep you from spreading the info around.” She winked, and he burst out laughing.

“You make a good statement. Very smart.”

Her giggles rang through the hall softly. She tilted her head up to face the young man more properly. “Hey, quick question. From your appearance, you seem Sikh, but your name is Ahmed. Why is that?” She retracted a bit, putting her hands up in surrender as panic overtook her face. “I’m not trying to insult you, I promise! I’m just trying to understand you better.”

Ahmed laughed broadly, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “My friend, please. Your questions do not offend me. My family is different from most. My father is a Sikh. Born in a small village in Punjab, actually. And my mother is a Muslim woman born here in France. They met when my father came here for a veterinary conference. Maman is a manager in a company that creates machinery for veterinary clinics, and Papa is a veterinarian. He was still in his last years of schooling when they met. Their families objected greatly to their love, but they ignored them. Their self-sufficiency gave them power, and they went off on their own after making sure their families would be financially safe without them. And then they married and had me.” He preened a little at the intense attention his companion had given him for the duration of his explanation. Her eyes hadn’t left his face no matter how long he spoke and how far they walked.

She commented softly, still basking in awe at the beautiful story, “That’s amazing. That’s so cool. I’ve never met anyone like that. But then again, my family only hung out with the hyper-conservative people of our community.”

He beamed. “I would think so. Not many of our families are open to mixing with others, yes?” He hummed at her sad expression and slow nod. “But my full name is Ahmed Sukhwinder Singh. My father wanted to name me after his closest friend who passed away. Ahmed Ali served in the French army. He died during one of their missions, and since the man had no other family, the officers told my dad of his death. And as a remembrance, when I was born, Papa gave me the name Ahmed. My family was not pleased because Islam and Sikhism have famous enmity, though that may be too strong a word.”

Sanjeevani gave her friend a wistful smile. “That’s such a sweet story. Do you follow both religions too? Is that difficult for you? I would assume not.”

He shook his head. “I do not. I am Sikh. I truly do respect Islam, but I never could connect to it like my mother does. But she always listens when I do the Akhand Path at home. Akhand Path is like a reading of Sikh scripture during momentous events, either uplifting or depressing. Maman and Papa tend to cook for themselves rather than for each other because Sikh people can never consume halal food, but Muslims can only consume halal food. We frankly avoid speaking of religion at all when any relatives visit, just to avoid arguments and anger. My father and mother have disagreed on many different topics, including their faith. But they love each other enough to support and understand each other's faith. If my father forgets to do the Akhand Path on a birthday or celebration, my mother will remind him and make him bring out the book. And if Maman ever feels too fatigued or ill to pray all five times every day, Papa gets her up and ready and stands near the corner of the room while she prays, just to check on her. While she didn't like me choosing Sikhism over Islam, my mother will never fault me for trying my hardest to be good, for trying to help people, for trying to live my life in a way that brings me happiness but also in a way that supports the needy.”

She appeared to be mystified by this young miracle. This guy seemed wiser than most elder to him, at least in terms of knowing how to apply the morals and duties of his faith. While some use their faith to discriminate and spur hatred in humanity, others, like Ahmed, use it to lift up humanity. An awkward silence brewed between them at her hesitation to speak. She finally decided to just express herself. No one else could know her feelings like this guy. At least, not that she knew anyone else here.

“My family is very strictly Hindu. They really stick to the books with no leeway or alteration. I mean, I had very few choices in my life growing up. Only after high school started did I live a little. But even then, most decisions were made for me. My college, my classes, my future, all predetermined by these guys. I hated it. I avoided my religion at all costs to feel free from their oppressive nature. It was like poison in my lungs. It was like a poisonous system. Every time I tried to breathe or speak to help alleviate the struggle in my body, more poison flowed in. I couldn’t avoid it.”

He patted her back gently when she stopped abruptly. “I’m a dancer. Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, kathakali, I learned all three. I can pretty much teach them, that’s how far and how well I've excelled. I started when I was two. I’m nineteen now. But I hate it. I learned so much in my life. And at the time when I should be loving the world and myself, I hate everything. There was no escaping my religious parents with these dances. Every step and movement of it is drowned in religion. Every time I try to be free and live, religion pulls me back further into its clutch. I’m so awed by you because never once did I have a positive relationship with faith or belief. It was always forced down my throat. I choked on it. And now I feel like trash because you follow two separate religions so effortlessly, and I can’t go a minute without complaining about how my parents’ religiousness made me suffer. And it’s not as bad as other people have it. But it’s filling my head, and I don’t know what to do. I hate complaining about this, but it’s too much. I keep wanting to be a good Hindu and do what I have to do, but there’s such a bitter taste in my mouth when I think of even setting foot in a temple or saying the prayers again.”

He rubbed his chin, hands then moving to his jacket pockets. “Everyone has a different relationship with faith. Yours was less than pleasant, based on what you’re telling me. You cannot blame yourself for what your parents did. If your parents truly made as many decisions for you as you say they did, then you haven’t been able to properly learn about or truly appreciate your religion. After I learned more about my other family members’ open disdain for my existence, I left home to explore myself and my faith. I came to love and appreciate both Sikhism and Islam, even though I will always be Sikh. You have not had that chance to renew your love for your religion. If you take that step, maybe you can relearn from the beginning. Redo everything. If you still don’t enjoy it, you don’t have to follow it. Follow any other religion. I can teach you about Sikhism or Islam if you would like to join either or both of those. Or just don’t choose a religion at all. Remember what I said? Whatever you have to do to be happy and make the world happy. God will accept you either way.”

Sanjeevani gave a wet laugh. “Thank you. This has been some wonderful therapy for me. Can I pay in back massages? I’m afraid I don’t have enough money to give you and still survive on my own.”

He smiled. “Simply glad to be of help. No need to repay me for being kind. If you need to talk more, you can come find me or ask for me. Or call me. Whatever you prefer.”

“Thanks so much. Also, are you sure you’re not like, an undercover psychologist? Like. That was some…that was some _major talk_. Like. That sounded like what I imagine real therapy sounds like,” she confessed. His boisterous laugh filled her with petulant indignation. “It’s a fair question!”

Ahmed rolled his eyes as they began exiting the elevator to walk down the hall towards her new room. “It is a ridiculous question. I don’t think there’s such a thing as undercover psychologists. But also, I just like to help people be content and happy. It’s so hard in this modern world. If I could at least make someone’s day a little less rainy or help someone smile a little brighter, I’ve done at least something for humanity.”

“You’re too nice to be human,” she huffed.

They stood in front of the door to her room. Ahmed winked playfully. “Wrong. I am too nice to _not_ be human. Perhaps it’s merely a beautiful sentiment, but I believe in humanity, and I hope you do too.”

She shrugged, breathing slowly as he unlocked the door for her and brought her inside. “I will at some point. Thanks, Ahmed. Talking to you has been really helpful. I think I’ll be okay.”

He patted her shoulder with a heavy hand, eyes warm and sunny despite the sound of unexpected rains hitting the roof and windows of the building. “You are very welcome. We’ll call everyone for dinner via the overhead. Do whatever you’d like. WiFi info is on the dresser, along with a little brochure about the room and building. Get some rest. It’s been a long day, clearly.”

Her eyes followed him as he left, waiting until he wasn’t visible before crumpling onto the bed in a heap. She would need several days of sleep before being prepared enough to face the world again.

So, she slept for the next four hours, too exhausted by the day’s events to continue on as usual. And when the dinner announcement mumbled in through the overhead, she refreshed herself briefly and rushed down to the elevator, key in pocket, phone in hand.

She watched about fifty other people — including teens her age, older adults, men and women with families, and young couples — walk past her to the elevator to head down for dinner.

Before she could notice, time stopped. Or at least, it felt like it did. Empty eyes scanned over her surroundings, and bitten-red lips pursed tightly. All of this, her whole mess, her whole disaster, was real. She hadn’t come to terms with it until that moment. She didn’t want to, either. She didn’t want to be in this massive world. She wanted to be in her bubble of safety, shielded from reality itself.

But she didn’t have any other options. She didn’t. Either she faced the truth of her situation and adapted accordingly, or she remained in her obscure sense of safety and suffered the consequences.

She breathed in deep enough to cause pain in her chest, shook her head to free her mind from its prison, and walked after the strangers whose lives her own would soon mirror.

The ride down was painfully awkward, though. Everyone stared at her too closely, eyes focusing in on every single piece of clothing and part of her body as if trying to piece together the girl’s whole life story based on details from her clothing. She squirmed uncomfortably in her corner in the elevator until the bell dinged, doors opening with a slight creak. The others huddled out quickly, clearly eager for supper. Sanjeevani hesitated, waiting for the last person to get off before finally doing the same. She wanted to avoid the crowds until she had no choice but to join. Big groups of people still elevated her stress easily, despite her experience with large audiences viewing her dance performances.

But to her surprise, Ahmed greeted her just outside the elevator, dark eyes and sunny smile shielding her view of the too-bright fluorescent lights. “Hello, my friend! I see you’ve chosen to take some rest. You look well, better than when you first arrived.” He held out his elbow to her, but she stared at it blankly.

“What are you doing?” came her question, confusion unmistakable.

He coughed, discomfort suddenly tainting his usually confident and carefree behavior. “I thought since you are here alone, you would want to be escorted to dinner. I presume it is not common practice in America. You may refuse, if you wish.” Ahmed slowly lowered his arm at the last few words.

With a pleased little gasp, she hurried forward and grasped his elbow, eyes alight with her thrill. “Sorry, sorry! I totally accept. I just didn’t realize what you meant. It’s not common where I’m from, but an escort would definitely be appreciated. Thank you.”

Ahmed sighed softly, clearly relieved that he hadn’t caused any offense. “You are quite welcome.”

But those were the last words spoken for the next five minutes as the youths strolled towards the mess hall in silence. Just as they set foot in the doorway, Ahmed piped up. “There is mail for you, actually. The mailman isn’t allowed to come up to give you the mail, so we hold it for you at the receptionist’s desk. I can pick it up for you now if you’d like, so you can eat dinner and have it with you when you return to your room.”

She hummed, contemplating her decision. “Actually, do you want to get it with me? I’d rather we eat in peace rather than have you rush off to do more work than you already do in a day. And if you’re free, we can read it through in my room?” Though her words sounded confident, her insides churned like the sea. She’d never experienced such discomfort and unsteadiness. Being in a different city or state from her hometown was familiar to her. Being on a different continent was not. She could use the familiarity of an Indian friend in a foreign world.

Sanjeevani didn’t know if Ahmed could determine her discomfort from her behavior or from his own experiences, but he seemed to take pity on her and agreed, promising to stay as long as she needed him to. A smile of thanks from the young woman, and the two were off to get their meals.

They rejoined each other at the opposite side of the room, having picked out the specific food from the buffet that the receptionist ordered that night. Ahmed smiled. “Have you been starving since birth?” he teased, motioning to her mountainous plate.

She giggled. “My metabolism is beyond science. Don’t question me, man.” The two laughed brightly, the sounds of their amusement completely overshadowed by the hustle and bustle of the dinnertime conversations from other residents of the shelter. She hesitantly followed her new friend to a table of other young people consisting of two couples and three individuals. On their way there, Ahmed whispered to her that they all spoke English, so she needn’t worry about communication barriers.

That factoid provided only a few seconds of relief.

She sat down between two girls who were talking to their friends seated on each end of the bench. Ahmed plopped himself down between the couples, smiling at their happy greetings. “My friends, this is our newest resident. I don’t know her name yet, but she joined us today.”

The girl to her left grinned. “Hello there!” The blonde’s British accent seemed to peek out hesitantly through her tone. “Nice to meet you. I’m Helen. The one on your right is Olivia. We’re sisters, actually. Why won’t you tell us your name?”

Sanjeevani wheedled out a sigh. “If this thing doesn’t work out, I need to get away and not get tracked down. Staying under the radar is only possible if practically no one knows my name.”

Olivia’s face contorted into deep concern and fear. “Why do you need to get away? Who would track you?”

“People I don’t like. I ran away from my ‘saviors’ after they got me away from my abusive family. But these guys just want to toss me into experimentation. Apparently I have this weird genetic anomaly. Don’t know what it is, don’t wanna find out. I gotta keep safe, and if that means not letting anyone know who I am, so be it. And a fake name won’t work because people may address me by the wrong name in front of the law, and I gotta keep my identity clear and accurate.”

One young man sighed deeply, the dark timbre of his voice amplifying the volume of his words. “I understand that. Any tracks left behind, and the police will catch you like dogs. I’m Alvin. Born in Sweden, but had to escape from my father. No other family except that abusive demon, so I’m here for my safety.”

Sanjeevani seemed to melt into the bench a little, dark eyes soft at hearing the simple, deep words of her new acquaintance. “Kinda the same sitch with me. No deets, but that’s a similar story.” Alvin nodded, smile almost unnoticeable.

One of the couples introduced themselves with soft, tired smiles and weak words. Elizabeth and Timothy were the droopiest people Sanjeevani had ever seen. Perhaps that word isn’t often used to describe humans, but it was accurate. Every aspect of them, from their clothes to their personalities, seemed to melt from exhaustion. She knew the feeling. But it was weird that both of them were like that. But who was she to judge?

The other couple was literal couple goals. Jacques and Sonia were angels from the realms of glory. They were perfection in human form. Both looked like they could be models, but successful models. Not the boring, every-day models. All sculpted features, sweet skin, and vibrant eyes. Jacques escaped from the Congo, escaping mass hunger, disease, and government tyranny. Sonia ran away from her village home in Egypt, where her family kept trying to perform some kind of crazy female genital mutilation procedure on her before her wedding day. The two met while waiting at the coast of Libya for a boat to cross the Mediterranean to reach France.

Sanjeevani felt deeply for their struggles, asking if they’d endured any injury in their attempts to escape difficult lives in their home countries.

Sonia nodded. “Much abuse from police. They do not like the thought of women running from home, so they try to convince us to go back by beating us, offering money, anything. I refused until they got tired and left me be.” Jacques shrugged at the question.

“I was caught and beaten a few times on my way up through Africa. But it is nothing new to me. Afrasian families love the same way, no?” he asked playfully, bright smile lighting up his face. Sanjeevani grinned, nodding in reply.

“Very true, my friend. Very true.”

The conversation only grew richer and more fascinating as the minutes ticked by, and Sanjeevani found herself loving the time spent with these people. As dinner time arrived to a close, she retrieved all of their numbers, including Ahmed’s, and promised to keep in touch no matter what happened.

She and Ahmed took a slow walk up to the receptionist, both barely able to take steps after their heavy meals that night. They collected whatever mail arrived for Sanjeevani and half-waddled up to the young woman’s bedroom. “So where do you sleep, Ahmed?”

He chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “I sleep in the rooms on the first floor. The first floor is usually occupied only by workers and employees of the shelter, but all other floors are open to residents.”

“Oh, wow! So you’re like a Resident Adviser?” she wondered. He laughed again, nodding. “You laugh a lot. It’s nice.”

He gave her a peculiar look, but thanked her anyway and peeked at the mail. “So what do you think it’ll say?”

She inhaled slowly. “I don’t know, but it better be an acceptance letter from those asylum guys.”

* * *

“So since I’m all clear and good to go in terms of all this asylum stuff, am I allowed to celebrate with alcohol?” Sanjeevani bounced around her room. Her hopes had proved fruitful. The letters contained approval letters for her residence in France as a person seeking safety from a personal situation in her home country. All was well. Now, after weeks of screaming and crying alone on that boat, she could scream and cry with the knowledge that she would have someplace to come back to, someplace to call home, if at least for a little while.

Ahmed snorted. “This building is home to families and children. We don’t store alcohol.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask to celebrate here. I meant anywhere in the city.”

He sighed. “You aren’t supposed to be out late. This is a shelter, not a dorm room. We can celebrate here, just no alcohol. I didn’t know you even drink.”

She smiled, shrugging. “I mean, I learned it kinda helps me when I was on my way here. I’ll tell you parts of my story as the hours tick, okay? I came to France on a cargo ship manned by the US Navy. I snuck onto it from the docks when I saw it was going to France. I hid in some kind of box filled with like clothes and backpacks and stuff. It wasn’t too uncomfortable. Most of the boxes were huge, massive wooden crates containing hundreds of items. I had packed my backpack with lots of food and water bottles and a few sets of clothes. The ship’s crew eventually discovered me. I made a deal with them. In exchange for me being the ship’s primary medic, they would give me safe passage and legal entrance into France. I got to know the crew. Became friends with some of them, and I had a few late nights healing severe injuries. I found out one day, after some experimentation with different drinks, that alcohol is a good and easy source of energy for me.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Okay, okay. I gotta spill. There’s a lot to this story, but please believe me. I’ll show you my truth, okay?” Ahmed, now appearing shaken and concerned about her behavior, leaned away from her a moment but nodded his head.

Sanjeevani launched into her story with renewed vigor, eyes bright and changing emotions with each part of her explanation. Ahmed remained passive until she began to speak, and his face mirrored her own expressions, both their eyes locking together like a deadbolt.

Ahmed almost fell off the bed in shock after she closed her mouth. “I don’t believe in using profanity, but God will have to forgive me. What the actual fuck?”

She smiled sympathetically. “I can show you. Any injuries, bud?”

He stepped off the bed, nearly collapsing to his knees out of sheer disbelief. “No, no! That’s not-! Stop it! I still can’t- I don’t believe this!” Strong hands clutched at a slowly paling face, breathing broken and heart hammering. “This isn’t possible. This isn’t.”

Dark eyes averted the form of their new friend losing his mind at what the mouth had revealed to him. Sanjeevani sighed. “Why is it so hard to believe? You come from a family where each parent follows a different religion. Why is this so crazy for you?”

“Because some things are reserved for belief and some things are reserved for science! You- you aren’t either of those things!” Ahmed sputtered, eyes glazed over with frustration. He’d removed his hands from his face to instead embrace himself tightly.

Sanjeevani stood up, walking towards him slowly, with her hands up in surrender. “That’s not how this all works, and you know it. Religion and science intertwine. It’s inevitable. They’re not mutually exclusive. I am all science. Not religion. Maybe you might believe I am. But I am science, okay? Are you injured anywhere, Ahmed? I may not fit into your categories of reality, but I can show you I’m being honest. Please.”

He finally looked at her, having avoided her gaze since she finished her story until now. “I have a cut on my leg from a kitchen mishap yesterday. It’s not serious.”

She directed him to the bed and forced him to show her the injury. He had told her the truth: the cut wasn’t too deep or long, but the skin around the cut seemed infected, what with its extremely red and irritated appearance. Two sets of dark eyes met once again, the softer pair of the two pleading with the other to understand. Sanjeevani gently laid her fingers on the cut and focused once again on the inner light, drawing it out from deep within her like cotton fibers, pulling it forward into her fingertips as the light flourished under her skin.

Just like the first time she used her powers, they glowed warm and white, illuminating the room slowly as her powers did their work. Red skin slowly returned to its usual tanned hue while the damaged or dead tissues in the cut dissolved before new cells began rapidly reproducing to fill the tear. As the cells reached the upper layer of the skin, they slowed reproduction and the skin around the cut closed over it, sealing the healed wound protectively.

Ahmed gazed on in horror and fascination, eyes wide and pupils narrowed as he watched Sanjeevani sit back and remove her hand. At first, there was only silence. Not peaceful and sweet, like the silence between lovers. No, it was painful, like the settling quiet after a war ends. Like the hush falling over the land after natural disaster razed the land. Like the silent fluttering of broken hearts after a long-lived marriage shatters.

“W-What are you?” The confidence in the man’s voice died. Sanjeevani could hear his brokenness, and it made her feel guiltier than she could explain.

She stood up and sighed, clasping her hands behind her back. “I am Sanjeevani. I don’t know what I am. I came from another dimension to save Tony Stark. Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, brought me to this dimension. He and I worked together to save Tony. I lost my family when I left my dimension. They hurt me because I didn’t use my powers to help my relatives struggling with bad health. I was promptly disowned as I chose to leave with Doctor Strange. I ran away once I told the Avengers about my powers. I needed to grieve. I’m here so I can grieve all alone. I’m a dancer. I’ve learned Indian classical dance forms for over fifteen years. I know Kuchipudi, Bharatanatyam, and kathakali. I can be a teacher in dance, if I so choose. I’m not that smart. I’m a dance major. Well, I was a dance major when I was still in college. I have these weird powers I don’t understand. Loki was supposed to help me learn how to use my powers. I don’t know if I have a future, and I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to the Avengers. I can’t trust that they won’t experiment on me. But I need to know what I am. Who I am. And I don’t know anyone here that can help me with that.”

The young man promptly stood up and took her hands, his sweet face suddenly morphed into stone. “You can trust me to keep your story a secret. Can I trust you?”

She frowned, but nodded. “Of course you can trust me.”

He sighed, rubbing his face into his shoulder. “Okay. Then come with me.” With a gentle tug, he pulled her along behind him, both young adults hurrying through corridors and rushing down flights of stairs. He led her down to an alleyway so tight that only two people can move through it if standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

Sanjeevani’s face darkened, and she glared into her companion’s eyes. He was afraid of her powers, yes, but she was just as afraid of his actions. A super-powered person as she was, Sanjeevani still feared the strength of men, still knew that if Ahmed turned against her (whether or not that would ever be reality for the gentle giant), she had reason to try and defend herself. “What the hell are you doing, Ahmed?”

He bit his lip, eyes hesitant but strong. “Just trust me.” He stepped away from her for a moment, trying to plead with her with his eyes. She could only comfort him with a nervous smile of her own, unable to comprehend her new friend’s odd behavior.

Ahmed closed his eyes, placing his hands together in front of his chest in prayer. And he set them down once again at his sides. Eyes still shut tightly, he murmured to her over the loud sounds of traffic and life rushing along the streets. “Just watch me.” With the same fascination and horror Ahmed showed when he saw her healing him, Sanjeevani watched her friend morph into a wolf, his clothes tearing as long human legs lengthened and changed form into the strong, bent legs of an animal of the Canidae family. His handsome, bearded face lengthened into a powerful snout and mouth. Perfectly straight teeth lengthened, sharpened, stretching into the terror-inducing incisors of a giant grey wolf. Dark brown eyes lightened to an icy blue hue. Warm brown skin lightened, and dark hair de-colored to morph into dark grey fur.

He huffed at her, and her knees nearly gave out from pure trepidation. As a wolf, Ahmed stood at nearly five feet at the shoulder. Sanjeevani, the short woman she is, was barely five-foot-five. She let out a whimper, and Ahmed slowly stepped forward, glacial eyes gazing down into her own as he bent his head to see her face better. She quivered like a fawn stuck in a trap, the dark lakes of her eyes filling with tears. Ahmed leaned forward, touching his nose to her face softly, and she heard his voice in her mind. It startled and frightened her, but not as much as she thought it would. It felt almost familiar and warm. It felt like a hug in her mind, enveloping her thoughts with gentle quiet, as if someone laid a blanket over her internal voice to comfort it after nightmares.

_“I know I’m scaring you. I’m sorry. But this is…this has been my curse, Sanjeevani. I’ve lived with this for years. I learned of these…things on my sixteenth birthday. I’ve learned to control it. I’ve learned to hide it. It’s worse when I feel angry, or when I feel too much. It’s so much worse. I become things I’ve never heard of. I become things I didn’t know existed in any myths…and it terrifies me. I don’t tell anyone. I’m too scared to. They may hunt me. They may kill me. Your fears and mine are no different at all. You're scared of them experimenting on you when you're alive. I'm scared of them experimenting on me when I'm dead. I can’t tell anyone, and I fully prepared myself to take this secret to the grave, until I met you. Can you help me?”_

She softened, moving her quaking arms up to wrap around his neck. He curled his head around her back. “What do you need, buddy? If you tell me what you need, I can try to help.”

He whimpered, a terribly soft sound that she wouldn’t have heard had she not stood so close to him. _“I need you to guide me. I need you to take me somewhere I can get rid of these. I was born with them, but I don’t want them. Not anymore…please take them away. I'll do anything to be free from this, this inhuman prison.”_

She cooed, murmuring gently as she scratched his back with strong fingernails. “I can’t. Ahmed, if they’re part of your DNA, I can’t remove them. If we tried with the help of some magical people or science people, you may die…I can’t risk that. I’ll teach you how to make them productive. I’ll teach you how to use them for your betterment or for others’ safety, but I cannot take them away. And I don’t know if it’s safe to even try. I like to think that our DNA is a better parent to us than our parents. It's our blueprint. It makes our bodies in a way that ensures we're the healthiest and at peak performance. We don't know the dangers or repercussions of trying to expunge such a critical aspect of yourself.”

He let out a pathetic howl, pressing closer to her. She sighed, rubbing his fur gently. “I’m sorry, buddy. Let’s get you back to the room, yeah? Maybe turn into a snake or smaller creature? That way I can hide you better.” With a little huff, Ahmed stood back, gazing at her forlornly. She didn’t know wolves could do that with their faces.

In another disturbing metamorphosis, the young man turned into a small dragon with two limbs and two wings. He slithered over to her, curling around her neck like a snake. She gently, uncertainly pressed a kiss to the top of a scaly, dry head. In a little rush, Sanjeevani collected his torn clothes and lifted his turban up into her arms lovingly, carrying the whole pile gently to his room. By some miracle, no one saw her walk through the halls with a dragon and a pile of clothes. She fished for his key card and quickly entered the door, closing it behind her with her foot before gently laying all his clothing on the bed. “I’ll wait in the bathroom, okay? Get changed, do what you gotta do.”

With a soft hum in her mind from Ahmed, he slithered off her shoulders and down her arm, reaching the bed and curling on himself defensively. She hurried into the bathroom and locked it, turning to grin at the mirror crazily. She’d found someone. She found someone like her. This was a good start after many bad ones. Ahmed had proved himself to be worthy of her affection, friendship, and secret. She definitely trusted him. After all, he gave her his secret to keep. If there was one thing Sanjeevani trusted above all, it was that people with secrets to keep will never betray one another, especially if they already have a positive relationship. 

She felt safe. She felt comforted. She felt _good_ , despite all that she'd seen, all that she'd experienced in the past few days. She didn't know how or why, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Life was finally good, and many thanks were in order.

* * *

Loki sighed, sitting back against the sofa in deep exhaustion. He rubbed his forehead, closing emerald eyes tightly. Ensuring this girl’s easy passage and process into France was one thing. But making sure that specific miracles like preventing people from seeing her carry her morphed friend down the halls required far greater amounts of magic.

He decided to take a little break from observing his future student by going out to the kitchen for some tea, only to discover the Avengers screaming for Tony’s life as the genius mechanic was pressed up against a wall by his throat.

The perpetrator of the crime? Stephen Strange.

Loki gaped as he watched the wizard snarl at Tony, blue eyes blazing with rage. The only phrase he could understand in the commotion was, “WHERE IS MY KID, STARK?!”

The older sorcerer shouted out a spell to diffuse the entire situation. Strange was ripped away from Stark, the wizard tied up by Loki’s magic, while the defenses that the other magician used crumbled away so the Avengers could come to Tony’s aid. They screamed back at Strange, who snarled and growled like a bound beast.

Loki slowly approached Tony, kneeling in front of him and speaking gently, shushing the other heroes. He, by no means, cared deeply about the man, but he wanted to ensure that he was on the Avengers’ good side. “I am not like the girl. Her healing is far more different and much more effective than mine. But I can attempt a few healing spells, as long as I have your consent.”

The billionaire gazed up at his former enemy, nodding his head carefully, for his neck still hurt like hell. Loki leaned Tony back to rest against the wall. Pallid, frigid fingers pressed against the hand-prints left on warm skin. Loki closed his eyes and began murmuring the spells, lips moving un-noticeably.

Tony keened like a wounded pup, whimpering at the growing pain in his neck and throat. Within seconds, the deep-seated ache subsided to allow cool waves of magic to flow all throughout the area. As Loki removed his hands, Tony began to feel his skin and muscles recover from the death grip Stephen had on his neck.

With a wrathful flourish, Loki stood up and grabbed Strange by the green magic binding his arms together. The former Asgardian prince shoved the Sorcerer Supreme down onto the couch, both sets of light eyes glaring at one another.

“You are going to tell me why you randomly attacked my landlord without warning or explanation, Strange. _Now_.”

The man slumped, head hanging low as quivers began to overtake his usually cool composure. Loki released him from the bindings and took the other magician’s hands into his own. “Strange…I don’t know you to be a violent man. A cheap, pathetic bastard, maybe.” That pulled a slight chuckle out of the taller man. “But you don’t murder fellow heroes. Especially not ones that you brought back to life. What the hell is going on here?”

Loki admitted to himself that he didn’t particularly care for or know the wizard. But if the man felt terrified or angry enough to go for Tony Stark’s throat, there must be a reason for it.

Strange’s voice seemed to shake or wobble as he spoke. He finally turned his head up to look at Loki’s face, blue eyes wetting slowly as his expression lost all strength and confidence. “Loki, he lost my kid. He lost her. I come into the compound today to check on things, see how everything is going. I run into Dr. Banner first. He and I have talked a few times and are working on a neurobiology project right now, to see how magic affects human and superhuman brains. He’s a good friend, so I strike up some conversation, ask how her lessons with you are going. He sounds confused when he says that he’s never met her formally. I don’t get it and go inside, trying to search for her. I try to feel her signatures everywhere. She should have slight magic signatures from when she and I brought Tony back. I realize that I don’t sense her, so I keep looking, thinking maybe it wore off. And then I hear Tony tell Steve how they have to make a plan to get her back. I lost it. But it’s all on him. He’s a fucking grown man with a family. Can’t he keep track of a teenager?!”

Tony stood up, having healed much faster because of Loki’s spells. “I was trying to tell you, Stephen. She’s an adult. She is legally an adult. We can’t force her to do anything. Not to mention, she got on the elevator before we could even stop her. Loki got here, we were distracted, and she left. We wouldn’t let her go off on her own. She’s still young and isn’t from this dimension. I know that. But Loki was the one to tell us to let her leave.”

Strange recoiled, searching for answers in Loki’s eyes and expression. He began to look angry once more and tried to stand, but Loki put his hand up to stop him. “Let me speak, Stephen.” The wizard slowed, sitting down again. “I told them to let her leave, yes. But not for no reason. You know what situation she was in. You know what happened right before she came here. She lost her family, Stephen. She was heartbroken. That’s why she kept breaking down into tears every five minutes. She would have lost her mind if she tried to stay here and pretend to be okay while being unable to mourn properly. She had to get away.”

Strange stood up, putting his face in his hands. Letting out a wet shout of despair, he punched his hand through a nearby wall. Loki continued talking. “She’s lived a life much like mine, Stephen. I read her soul when I arrived here. She’s a mirror image of me. I need you to trust me, okay? I know what she needs.”

Stephen sat down again, hands quaking violently in his rage. He remained silent for a few moments, and then he glared up at his fellow magician. “When does she come back?”

Loki sighed. “When she’s done mourning. But I want to know why you’re feeling so worried about her. You haven’t come by for a month and now you ask about her? You haven’t even read her soul. You don’t know her. And yet you sit and rage that Anthony lost her?”

Strange mumbled quietly, so only Loki could hear. “Did you care about your friends within days? No. You’ve never adopted a kid. All your kids were born to you. You loved them immediately. She’s not my kid, but I brought her into this world. It’s half guilt. Guilt that I ignored her for so long and never spoke to her. And the other half is worry. She was broken in her dimension, Loki. Her family broke her completely. She could barely stand. I saved her from there. I’m supposed to be there for her. I’m supposed to take care of her. That’s what you do as a hero. I let her down. I wanted to come in and talk to her today so I could make some promises and develop our relationship. Understand her better. Learn about her. But she was _gone_.”

Beginning to understand the situation, Loki nodded, patting the wizard’s shoulder. “Look, you can stop worrying. I’ve been keeping an eye on her ever since she left this compound. Every move she makes, every step she takes, I’ve been watching over her and protecting her. It’s one of the huge benefits of being a god. I can make things happen with just a thought. It’s how she has all her papers and documents from her dimension without being surprised by their presence. It’s how she’s been able to travel as far as she did with no worry of discovery or detainment by various governments.”

Stephen’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you serious? You’ve been watching over her? C-can I do that too?”

Loki chuckled. “I’ll give you access to her dreams. You can appear in them, interact with her, speak to her. It’ll feel like real life, but it will all be a dream. Hold out an open hand for me.” Almost scrambling excitedly, Strange sat up properly, holding an open palm out towards Loki. The older male conjured a necklace and a small sprig of some kind of herb, placing both into the other’s palm. “First, drop this herb into your water. It will dissolve like aspirin, but it will taste like lemon. Drink this thing just the once. Every time you want to talk to her, put on the necklace as you get prepared to sleep. That’s it. You will be able to enter her dreams.”

Strange gingerly placed the two items into his pouch, giving the other sorcerer a thankful, teary look. Loki laughed softly, rolling his eyes as he took Strange into his arms. “You may have brought her into this world, but I care for her just as much as you do. Now stop crying like a wee babe and get back to the Sanctum, you fool.”

The bearded man slowly nodded, wiping at his face as he pulled away and stood up. He walked towards Tony and held a hand out to shake. The other Avengers glared with pure hatred. Tony smiled, shaking the other genius’s hand. “Bygones?” asked the mechanic.

The magician smiled. “Bygones. I’m sorry, by the way.”

“No big deal. Loki did the same thing. I better get used to Pep doing that in bed, but I’m sure that would be infinitely more fun.” He laughed when his wonderful wife tossed a pillow at his head.

Stephen snickered. “Sure. Goodbye, everyone. Thank you, Loki.” With one last meaningful look towards his fellow sorcerer, Strange opened a portal, walked through, and closed it behind him.

Thor stared at Loki. “You hugged him.”

The younger Odinson groaned. “He was grieving, and he’s fascinating. Stop looking at me like that.”

Tony snorted. “Does our little witch have a crush?”

“Stark, I am seconds away from _crushing_ your skull, not your windpipe. Watch your tongue,” hissed the sorcerer.

“Physically, I can kinda do that. Metaphorically, I cannot,” Tony snarked in response.

The quietest of the Avengers during the scuffle, Peter, hesitantly walked closer and sat beside Loki, sweet brown eyes settling on slender, sculpted features. “Mr. Loki? You really don’t seem as bad as these guys say you were. I think you were just being really nice to Dr. Strange. But why were you keeping an eye out for Anji? She’s an adult and can take care of herself, right?”

Loki stared at the young man, bewilderment written all over Loki’s usually calm face. He hadn’t expected the child to even look him in the eyes, much less sit beside him and speak to him. Releasing a little breath, the older brunette spoke calmly. “What is your name, child?”

“Peter Parker, sir.”

“Peter Parker, imagine that upon returning to your home, you discover a dog. The dog is a mother of pups, and she is trying to eat some food from a garbage can. You feel bad, so you give her some biscuits from your snack at school. She eats them gratefully and hurries off. Curious that she’s so intent to leave as soon as she eats, you follow her, but lose her in the crowd. Every day you see her and give her some food, but you lose her. You worry about what she’s doing and what will happen to her because she’s a vulnerable animal in a harsh world. One day, you finally catch up to her and find her lying in a cardboard box, licking at her pups as they drink her milk. You understand now why she’s always going away after getting food. And since then, you want to ensure her safety, so you spend some time with her to make sure she’s okay. You watch over her when you can.”

Peter seemed to understand where the older man was getting with this story.

Loki hummed, retracing his words a little bit to make sure the young man didn’t misunderstand the metaphor. “Now. The girl is no dog. She doesn’t have pups. She’s not a mother. But she is a vulnerable creature in this vast world. Yes, she is an adult. Yes, she is intelligent. Yes, she can handle herself. But she has no one here. She is from another reality. She doesn’t know this world. So, I keep watch to make sure she is safe. To make sure she achieves whatever goals she has set for herself during her period of mourning so that when she’s ready, she can come back here safe and sound.”

“Okay. That makes sense. You’re really nice, Mr. Loki. For keeping an eye on her when you don’t know her enough to care. You’re a good guy too.” With a sweet little smile, Peter stood up and grinned at Tony, walking up to his mentor. “So, Mr. Stark, when can I meet Morgan?”

The others filtered out of the room, leaving Loki alone with Thor, Bruce, and his own thoughts. “What the fuck just happened?” Bruce asked exactly what Thor was thinking.

Loki coughed, eyes still following the young man with the incredible words. “I think I just made a new friend.”

Bruce sounded mildly offended. “Excuse you. I’m right here.”

“Oh shut up. You know we are actual friends now. You and Thor are equal levels of stupid and annoying,” grunted the magician. He walked over and patted the scientist’s shoulder, snorting at the growing pile of pages containing equations and notes the man had been making since yesterday. “By the way, your equations here, here, and here are wrong.”

Bruce sputtered, huffing at his former sparring partner. “They are not.”

Loki whistled, and Thor hurried towards them, peeking at the papers from over his brother’s shoulder. “Yes, my good friend. They are incorrect.”

“You guys are the worst,” griped Banner, quickly setting about fixing his work as the two ancient men observed his new writing. Loki nodded slowly, smiling as he read the new equations upside down.

“Much better. See? A very fast learner you are, Banner. That is nothing to be ashamed of,” encouraged Thor.

Bruce whined. “But I have seven PhD's. Seven! I’m supposed to be perfect at this!”

Loki sighed. “My friend, no one is perfect. Perfect isn’t even a real thing. It’s something creatures create for themselves to feel safe. A standard that can be used as a means of feeling safe and free from the worries that life may throw at you. The constant assumption is that perfect people lead perfect lives with no problems. But nothing in this universe is perfect. There are only patterns and common behaviors. Perfection isn’t real.”

The shortest of the three men bit his lip, still not believing Loki’s words, but knowing he should. Both Thor and Loki were ancient. They lived longer lives than any being on Earth. If they say something as deep as that, then it’s most likely true, he presumed.

“Thanks, Loki. I guess I’m just so used to holding myself to this unattainable standard. It’s hard to break old habits.”

Thor smiled widely, clapping a hand on Bruce’s back. “But it is much easier to form new ones. It would help you to say ‘I will’ every time you feel like you want to say ‘I can’t’. And then, when you do it, you’ll realize that you can.”

At his elder brother’s actually good idea, Loki smiled widely, nodding his head in approval. “That is quite creative, Brother. I am impressed.” Thor almost preened at the praise, smiling even brighter.

“But enough mathematics for now. Let us do something fun. It’s high time we actually enjoyed ourselves, considering how often you bookworms drag me into your studies. You spend entire days at the lab and don’t do anything with me. Let’s go out. Have fun. Go see a movie. Something. You both stay cooped up in that room all day,” whined the Thunderer.

Loki groaned, looking sideways at Banner, who also seemed uninterested in going out. Both seemed to light up at the same time, though, equally mischievous grins illuminating warm faces. “Let’s go to a history museum!” they exclaimed in tandem.

Thor groaned. “So that Loki can do more mischief? I think not.”

Bruce pleaded, shaking his giant friend’s shoulder. “Come on, Thor. It’ll be so fun! Besides, who knows what new stuff we’ll learn! And after that, we can go to a movie! I promise. Pleaseee?”

Thor didn’t particularly agree with the plan, but the older Asgardian melted and begrudgingly admitted defeat when Loki gave him the sweet expression he used to give his older brother when the trickster was a mere child. “Damn you, Loki. Always using that face. It’s unfair, I tell you! Unfair.”

Loki and Bruce high-fived, snorting as they walked towards the elevator. “Hurry up, oaf. We’ll leave without you if you take too long.”

The larger man rushed after his brother and best friend, smiling softly at the younger men’s animated conversation. It had been centuries since he last saw Loki so carefree and happy. He would have to thank Banner extravagantly. Thor was indebted to him eternally. When Loki noticed his big brother’s peculiar, overly soft smile, he raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”

Thor recoiled a little, chuckling. “Nothing, Loki. I’m just glad you both are happy. Which museum would you like to go to?” He grinned. “I would prefer to go to the Smithsonian. Isn’t that the one from that movie?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You are a disgrace sometimes. This is one of those times.” He squeaked when Thor curled a giant bicep around his neck. “Let go, brute!”

The elder of the two gods smirked. “Not until you apologize, little brother.”

“I won’t! Now let go of me!”

Bruce laughed hard, smiling gently at his friends. “Thor, stop being mean. Let go of him. He was just kidding, big guy.”

Thor released his brother after placing a wet kiss on top of his head. “You’re too tiny for your own good, brother.”

“Shut up, you ungrateful ass. You’re only as strong and fit as you are now because I put you on that diet and exercise regimen. And because I got you to go to therapy like a responsible adult, which you’re supposed to be. You’re older,” huffed the smaller man.

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival to the ground floor, and the three idiots got out to make their way to the garage area. Thor explained warmly, “I let you take care of me because I trust you to know what I need better than I do, Loki. You’re smarter than me. You know my struggles and secrets and issues. You also know how to handle them. I usually don’t. I’m fine with leaving myself in your hands. I trust you with my life, you little idiot.”

Loki stopped, not moving an inch after hearing those words from Thor, who kept walking ahead with Bruce. He then sprinted forward and hugged his older brother, throwing his arms around Thor’s giant neck. He didn’t say anything, not trusting his mouth enough to say the right words. Thor turned around in Loki’s grasp, returning the hug with warm, protective arms. He patted the smaller god’s head and rubbed his back. He didn’t need Loki’s words to know what the other was feeling. “I know, little brother. I know. Now, let’s get to that museum, yes? The sooner we finish that, we can go to the movie, and I want to do that before dinner.”

Bruce smiled at the heartwarming moment, calling up to Tony’s new AI, “FRIDAY, can you tell the others that the three of us are going to the Smithsonian and then the theater? We’ll let you know which one after our museum visit is over.”

“Sure, Dr. Banner. I’ll make sure Tony knows.”

“Thanks.” And with that, the three of them picked out one of Tony’s less expensive cars, at Bruce’s behest, and drove away from the compound. Of course, Loki was the one to drive. Bruce was too nervous, and Thor was too brash.

Loki snickered quietly. “Again. The three of us out on these adventures. We should invite the witch boy again. It’ll be just like Ragnarok again.”

Bruce laughed. “Maybe even Valkyrie, Korg, and Meek too. That would be fun.”

Thor sighed. “Korg and Meek won’t be able to survive here with the humans. Everyone would be too afraid.”

Loki sniffed. “Because the humans aren’t still afraid of me, brother? They are. They’d be more afraid if they really saw me, Thor. Don’t make assumptions you don’t understand the ramifications of. Only you two can handle seeing my true self. Bruce is saved by the Beast. Thor is saved by his Asgardian nature. But the humans…they would crumble, Thor. Korg and Meek would fit in perfectly fine. I, on the other hand, never will…”

That last statement hung in the air like a threat, a promise, and an admittance all in one. It didn’t affect their enjoyment that evening, but that isn’t to say it left them unaffected after their night out.

After all, comfort is not a replacement for healing. And Loki needed to heal, a lot. But he’d have to wait. He’d have to wait to heal. First, he had to bring the child back home and make sure Strange knew she was safe too. Odin knows what that lunatic wizard would do if the girl doesn’t come back there.

The only thing Loki didn’t understand is when he started calling the compound home. But considering the facts of his new friendships and his slow rebuilding of his relationship with Thor, the giant complex started feeling like home. Maybe not the one he wanted since his youth, but it would do. It would do perfectly fine. At least until he got his children back. And then it would actually be perfect. It would actually be a home.

* * *

Many miles away, Dr. Stephen Strange sat in his office in the Sanctum Sanctorum and pondered the reasons his charge was absent from the Avengers compound. Loki had said that she needed to mourn, but she could do that there, right? She could mourn in safety. Strange believed Loki, despite the older sorcerer’s proclivity for dishonesty. But he didn’t know the extent of Loki’s honesty.

If the Avengers didn’t bring her back by the end of her mourning, he would go retrieve her himself. He would bring her back. She was his responsibility. She needed his care and nurturing. She was a kid. He called her his kid, whether by accident or by unknown intention. But she did need him. She had clung to him whenever he was nearby. Maybe it was because he was the one to save her from her family. Maybe it was because she knew no one else. Maybe it was because she was a scared kid and recognized him as safety and protection. No matter the reason for her reliance on him, he would bring her back and keep her safe. She wouldn’t leave his sight unless the Universe itself collapsed around him.

The first step was to find out where she was. Loki had an easy way to reach her: he knew her soul. Stephen didn’t. A dumb move on his part, really. He should have read her deeper and sooner, but he didn’t. He had no access to any Infinity stones since Steve Rogers went back and returned all of them to their proper places.

Stephen would have to do things the old-fashioned way. He would read as many books as he could until he could learn a way to psychically see her life as she experiences it in real-time.

It would take forever to learn that specific activity, but he had to try. He wouldn’t interfere, though. If Loki had been watching over her, then the god was likely also making little miracles happen for her. If Stephen involved himself, it would mess up the entire passage of time and the organization of how Loki wanted things to happen.

But for now, he had to scan through the books and read the one related to finding souls and seeing their experiences.

This would protect her. If he saw what she was going through, he would be able to protect her. At least, that’s the lie Stephen told himself.

Every parent tells themselves that lie. If the parent knows exactly what the kid is doing, then the kid is safe from harmful things. But knowing the child’s activities doesn’t ensure anything. The kid can do anything. Experience anything. Think anything. And the parent can only presume and watch. That’s it. Because the parent doesn’t have the kid’s experiences or knowledge. The parent doesn’t know how to interact with the kid’s own surroundings. The lion is king of its own pride, but it could never lead a wolf pack. You know only what you live.

Stephen didn’t know her world. He didn’t know what Sanjeevani could or would do. He couldn’t interfere either. He could watch, and she’d be left to handle life and danger all on her own.

Tell me, does that sound like he’s protecting her?

But it was comforting to Stephen. It comforted him to know he would at least know her condition even if he couldn’t help her with it. He was comforted to simply have access to her mind. If he knew the gears turning in her head, maybe he could try and tell Loki what he could do next to help her.

He was okay with just knowing. Because he was also comforted by the fact that the kid was smart. She may not have any friends or experience with this world specifically, but she had experience with her own. And as long as humans thought the same way in her dimension and this one, she could protect herself. She could be safe without him. Maybe not from supervillains or monsters, but she could be safe from humanity. And that was enough for him. That was enough.


	4. Fear

The main thing Sanjeevani hated about mornings was the morning. She did enjoy the sun on her face. She did enjoy hearing birds and smelling breakfast. She just hated the other things associated with the morning, like traffic and honking cars, full-body aches and pains, unnecessarily bright lights, and the overall sweatiness associated with waking up in a pile of extremely soft blankets and pillows.

But, because she was now living alone and had to manage 'adulting' without outside help, she got up and readied herself for the morning's struggles, which included going downstairs for breakfast without having a mental breakdown, not crying while checking her papers and making sure she was eligible to get a job to sustain herself, and avoiding all her problems by searching for somewhere to get drinks (with company, obviously, because she refused to drink alone in a strange new place).

She heaved herself out of her half-asleep haze, trudging her feet on the floor as her hands reflexively moved towards the sheets to make the bed. After making the bed, she sprinted to the bathroom, unaware of exactly how sweaty she'd gotten in her sleep and desperately desiring a shower.

Fashion didn't matter much to her. She spent her whole life being handed very, very modest clothing that included full-length jeans or capris, T-shirts that always had at least five-inch-long sleeves and high necks, and skirts that always ended five inches below the knee. Conservative and traditional as her family was, she never had any interest in showing much skin at all. It hindered her greatly during the summertime when the sun's warmth felt more like the scorching heat of a fever or unpleasant campfire. However, she grew accustomed to that style. Trying to leave that lifestyle behind disturbed her. Even when she had the freedom, she couldn't step out of her old lifestyle. Wearing shorts made her feel like everyone's eyes were on her, wearing tank tops made her feel naked, and wearing both simultaneously made her feel like she was standing naked in the middle of the street.

So, she put on the only nice clothes she had left that didn't need a wash, and hurried out of the room, tucking her key card into her front pocket. Like the previous day, Ahmed greeted her at the elevator entrance, and like the previous day, offered to escort her to the cafeteria. They strolled arm-in-arm, speaking softly and trying to wake themselves up.

His comments about her clothing startled her a little. "It's a bit too warm to be wearing full sleeves and long pants, don't you think?" Warm walnut-toned eyes hesitantly peeked at her outfit, eyebrows crinkling with concern.

Sanjeevani worried at her lower lip with her teeth, eyes avoiding her friend's face. "I just like them. Besides, I'm used to the heat." Ahmed seemed to understand her thoughts and gave a placating, gentle smile while patting her hand.

"Of course, of course. Have you been busy this morning? I've heard some statements - not exactly complaints - from your fellow floormates that they heard movement in your room in the early hours of daylight."

"Hm? I dunno, I got up when I started hearing the birds outside. I didn't check the clock."

Ahmed stopped walking to turn his head and stare at her for a few moments. "My friend, that means you woke up at the beginnings of dawn. Without an alarm. That's quite unusual. I mean, the morning fog and smog of Paris don't allow for much light in the mornings, especially considering you live in what's basically a hotel for asylum seekers."

She grinned. "I've been waking up at dawn since I turned seven, Ahmed. That whole 'perfect Indian women' ordeal. You wake up early and go to bed late, especially if you're learning to sustain a home and be a good housewife. At this point, my biological clock's set to other animals' clocks. Wake up at dawn, go to bed a little after dusk."

He huffed, frowning on her behalf as they resumed their walk to the cafeteria. "Why did your parents make you get up so early when you were a child? That is hardly fair. I doubt you had that much to do as a child, despite the taxing homework and teaching practices of the American education system."

"Look, they wanted to teach me to be an Indian wife. Not an Indian kid. My mom is from Tamilnadu, my dad's from Andhra. Both came from strict, fairly wealthy families in India, and both their families had that belief about women belonging in the home while men belong in an office or other proper work. I was taught to be the perfect Desi woman. I was only encouraged to take an interest in the arts. Dance, music, writing, painting, history, languages, that kind of stuff. Math and sciences were only encouraged to make sure I got really good grades. Otherwise, I wasn't supposed to learn the 'boys' subjects'. I learned to cook full meals by the time I was thirteen. I learned to do every kind of cleaning chore by the time I was ten. I learned how to bathe and clothe myself by the time I was six. I wasn't allowed to be a kid. Considering that childhood, that upbringing, is it really that surprising that my parents made me get up at dawn every day since I was a kid?" There she went, oversharing as usual. She should keep more things secret, but how could she? Someone had to know her. Her parents certainly didn't know her, even though they raised her to be how she is. Dr. Strange didn't hang around long enough to learn about her. Her navy buddies were long gone, back home in the US, probably. She had no other friends here. She had to tell her story to someone.

Ahmed squeezed her hand with restrained force, gazing hard into her eyes. "I am sorry for what you have experienced. I'm sorry you had no support or love or compassion when you were so alone. But…but we are friends now, yes? You have my secret, and I have yours. I will be there with you whenever you need me."

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wasn't her best friend from home, but damn, Ahmed was such a good soul. "Buddy, we're not friends yet. I've bared open my heart to you. But you haven't done the same for me. I don't know your story. Until almost all is shared, we're not complete friends."

He grinned, eyes brighter than before, now glinting with a hushed golden hue. "Then we will talk more. Let's get breakfast, though. My stomach feels like an empty pit of darkness."

"Just say it's a chasm. Shorter and easier."

"I live for the theatrical, my friend. I'm a writer."

Sanjeevani snorted under her breath. "Didn't need to hear it to know it."

"Hey!" He pushed her shoulder, grumbling indignantly. She laughed brighter, rushing off to greet their group of friends with hugs and exclamations of joy about her letter about the subsidiary protection status she was granted.

They all cheered for her, another round of hugs and affection blossoming once more in the group. An affectionate chuckle and exasperated shake of the head later, Ahmed jogged over to join the group. They greeted him with claps to the shoulders and sweet kisses to the cheeks, as per the traditional European custom.

Half the group sat down to claim a table so the other half could go get breakfast. And then, once the first round had returned with plates piled high, the second round left.

All nine youths plopped down on the chairs surrounding the round table, each engaged in a peculiar conversation with the other. As the group descended into breakfast-occupied silence, Ahmed smiled hand held his glass of orange juice up, looking around at his friends. "I'd like to propose a toast to our newest friend who gained legal residence here in France. We may not all know her name, but by God, she is our dear friend. To our newest friend! May she live long and prosper here!" Everyone snickered softly at his theatrical wording, but nodded, lifting their glasses of juice and cheered, "To our newest friend!" before clinking glasses together.

Sanjeevani giggled, rolling her eyes a little. "Thank you, my friends. I mean, Ahmed, even for my tastes, that was a bit thespian, but I can't say I mind. I really appreciate all of this. I mean, you guys are the best people I've encountered in France so far. Not that I've really gotten to know people besides you, but that's not the point."

They all ceased their joyful laughter and amusing conversation to completely focus on her. As if something obstructed her voice, she swallowed for a moment and looked back to her friends. "You have given me more than I could have ever asked for. In return, I want to give you my truth. My reality. I know I can trust you guys. And you need to know I trust you too. So this evening, let's all meet up in my room for chocolate strawberries and sparkling apple cider."

Jacques raised an elegant eyebrow. "Sparkling apple cider."

She shrugged. "Well, we can't have alcohol here. Otherwise, I would treat you guys to some nice champagne. Sparkling apple cider is the next closest thing."

Sonia laughed like the tinkling of a bell. "You're so cute."

Sanjeevani, feeling a spark of confidence light up in her soul, grinned charmingly. "Believe me, I try. It usually works with grandparents. Now I just need to test it out with people our age."

Everyone joined in on the laughter, Ahmed choking on his juice from his excessive snickering. Sanjeevani was feeling the glow of friendship. This was good. If she could, she would stay here forever. And ever. And ever and ever and ever. These were the best people in her life, by far.

As the conversations continued, she scarfed down her breakfast, hungrier than she thought she would be after that unnecessarily huge dinner last night.

Ahmed watched her consume her meal with mild horror and extreme disgust. "Are you sure you aren't part lion?"

She pouted upon lifting her head to catch her breath. "I have a fast metabolism. Really fast. You know exactly why, Ahmed. Stop judging me. I need my calories."

Dark eyebrows scrunched together a second before dark eyes widened dramatically. "Ohhhh. Sorry, sorry. I forgot." He had completely forgotten about her powers. It would make sense that healing people took up a lot of energy. He should have considered that.

However, the other people at their table had no idea of Sanjeevani's powers, nor the fact that Ahmed knew about them. So, they gained a completely different impression of what Sanjeevani was talking about. Sonia and the other girls cooed or winced in sympathy, patting the newest member's hand or shoulder gently. Elizabeth offered some tips for cramps, like drinking cranberry juice and eating bananas. Olivia just sighed in understanding, and Helen offered some Advil and Ibuprofen "just in case". Timothy and Jacques coughed awkwardly and looked away, but sweet Alvin explained in a low, gentle voice to Sanjeevani (while staring deep into her eyes earnestly) that he always had tampons and pads with him in case any female friends, family members, or strangers were in need of them.

The young woman could only smile her least awkward smile and thank them for their help. She did NOT think that's what they understood from her conversation with Ahmed, but still. She had a confirmed impression of this odd group: they truly were the best people ever.

Four hours later, they met again for lunch. In those four hours, Sanjeevani was productive. Well, as productive as you can be when a TV and a smartphone exist in the same room as you.

She reviewed her skills in life. She knew all the Microsoft thingies, she could use a computer and social media (secret accounts that her parents never found out about), she could communicate well, she had good people person skills, and she could dance. Dancing was her main talent and skill. The best option at the current moment: she could perform for people. Hindu religious events, most weddings, shows organized by Indian-centered cultural organizations, dance competitions, etc. She could build a base here. For now, she would do weddings and religious event performances. An uncomplicated flow of cash and quick payment. But she had to get her gear, so maybe she could borrow it from the family? In return for borrowing the jewelry and clothes and whatever else, she could do half-price?

As doubt and hope settled into her stomach, she walked over to her giant backpack and dug through the extra sets of clothes and toiletries before bursting into loud sobs at the sight of her dance clothes and jewelry and anklets and makeup all waiting for her at the bottom of the bag.

She didn't know what miracle this was. Maybe Doctor Strange had something to do with this. But the next time she saw him, she would thank the hell out of him. She didn't know how he knew she would need this stuff or how he even got it, but fuck all that. It didn't matter now.

She had hope. She could make it in this huge, terrible world. She would be okay.

Besides, if nothing else worked, she could mask herself and hide her identity and offer her miraculous healing services in exchange for money, but no more than the person was willing to pay. If they didn't want to, then it's no big deal. (She might ask the person to buy her or make her a meal, but only if the person seems kind and is willing.)

But the performances would all have to be paid for in cash. She didn't have any bank account or anything like that here. She should probably set one up. And she'd need to set up a budget to make sure the money going out doesn't exceed the money coming in.

So that's what she did. Instead of watching movies or taking a nap or relaxing after her major ordeals of traveling to France while mourning her disownment, she crunched numbers and determined what her prices for performances and payments would be. And then came the budget, which included clothing, food (if she wanted anything besides what the cafeteria downstairs provided), entertainment (probably a Netflix account or something), and savings, which would be the majority of her budget.

Too soon, morning became afternoon, afternoon became night, and dinnertime arrived. Sanjeevani had skipped lunch in favor of crafting the perfect plan to sustain herself in France. Because of this, the raging beast known as hunger slowly took over her body as she once again made the journey down to the first floor. And once again, Ahmed awaited her arrival at the elevator to escort her to the cafeteria. The two walked arm in arm, talking quietly, nervously about what would happen that night.

Sanjeevani softly explained her desire to tell their friends her secret. They both were stressed out about the whole thing, and they really shouldn't have been. But they knew the stress wouldn't help, so instead chose to peacefully go to dinner and ignore the problems until it was time to tell everything.

Their friends greeted them with big smiles and cheer, all of which melted away at the two youths' nervous behavior. Jacques, the most emotionally receptive of the nine friends, stood quickly and hurried to his companions, resting a hand on Sanjeevani's right shoulder and Ahmed's left shoulder. "Are you both alright? What's happened, you two?"

Sanjeevani looked up at Ahmed gently, and the two unlinked arms so the young woman could hug her concerned friend. Jacques paused a moment, freezing in his place. He was a good friend. He cared about all of his friends, even this young woman who hadn't even told them her name yet. He considered every one of them important in his life. But he had so many questions about this girl. So many unanswered queries about herself and her life. And yet, she hugged him with such love and affection and kindness and gratitude and so many other things, he couldn't help but freeze in an attempt to stop and understand what was going on. He didn't expect her hug, but damn, he appreciated it. A half a moment. That was the pause. Half a moment. But it felt so much longer. After feeling and conscious thought returned to him, he hugged back.

She was so small. Not too fragile and delicate, but still small. Shorter than all of the males in the group, absolutely. Her head barely reached his collarbone. She wrapped both arms around him like he was her anchor to the mortal plane. Her ear blushed white from pressure, as if she were trying to hear and memorize his heartbeat. The two breathed in deeply before exhaling just as hard and letting go of one another.

Jacques held her by the shoulders, and the young woman beamed up at him, her smile shining as if the stars lived under her skin. Her hands gently grasped his wrists, her thumb just barely grazing his pulse point.

The pure _love_ in her voice nearly broke him. "Thank you, my friend. Thank you dearly." He held his tears at bay and nodded, smiling back as sweetly as he could muster. She patted his cheek warmly and stepped back, hooking arms with Ahmed again.

Shaken by the experience, the young man walked back to the table, sitting beside his darling girlfriend weakly. He plopped down onto the bench, gazing at Sonia with fatigue and joy in his eyes. Ahmed and Sanjeevani walked over and sat down beside each other, Alvin seated at the woman's right while Helen sat to Ahmed's left.

As a man of action rather than words, Alvin didn't like to waste his time thinking unnecessary or unimportant thoughts. But he could tell something had just changed in the group. He and Timothy, who sat across from him, shared a look. Jacques and Ahmed were kind of the epicenter of the group. Jacques was the most charismatic of them, and Ahmed was such a stable person, their gentle giant. They didn't crumble or shake or quiver at anything coming their way. But when Jacques returned to them, he seemed different. Something in that hug between Jacques and their mysterious new friend had changed the young man.

They wouldn't bother him. The four young men had an unspoken agreement among them: if someone has an issue, the others wouldn't ask him for any information at all until he himself was ready to speak about it. It saved a lot of wasted time and words, and usually, it helped the four of them heal faster.

The only weird thing about this whole ordeal was the fact that Jacques didn't seem traumatized. He seemed touched. Touched to the point of tears, almost. The four of them would talk about that later. Hopefully before their newest friend's storytime session, but who knows?

Alvin turned his attention back to the young woman, who was yawning and leaning against him as if she was ready to fall asleep right there. "You okay?" He gently shook her left shoulder, trying to wake her up a little.

She sat up straighter, rubbing her face. "Wha- yeah, yeah. I'm fine, Alvin. Just…" _Yawn._ "Just tired off my ass, is all." And once she said her piece, she leaned into him again, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. He could only chuckle softly and scoot closer so she wouldn't sprain her neck trying to rest against him.

"Come on, eat and then take a nap. You can't do both at the same time."

"Try me."

Timothy rolled his eyes. "She needs some coffee, guys."

Elizabeth huffed. "Absolutely not. It's eight at night. No one's having caffeine right now. She just needs some food in her. Should I go fix her a plate, Ahmed?"

The young man raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you two are closer friends than any of us are with her. And because I know she tells you more about herself than she tells us."

He sighed. "Touché. Yes, would you do that, Eliza? It would be much appreciated. I'm afraid she's dead on her feet. Stress and exhaustion and working eight hours straight on no lunch really are weighing her down."

Elizabeth smiled softly, nodding. "Of course. She's our friend too." On her way to the buffet lines, she patted Sanjeevani on the head, giggling quietly when the girl leaned into her touch. "You're welcome, dear," she cooed to the exhausted teen.

Timothy chuckled. "She's literally like a child. I'm glad she has us."

Ahmed nodded. "Don't even get me started. She'd be either dead outside or dead inside were it not for you all. She's a hazard to herself, really."

Helen peeked over at her, smiling. "So are you gonna tell us any details about her? I mean, she's actually asleep."

A quiet whine from Alvin's shoulder. "No, I'm noooot." The Swedish youth shushed her gently, throwing his jacket over her shoulders as she curled into his side. "Just sleep. Food will come soon, okay?" A nod against his arm, and the soft breathing of her deep slumber resumed.

"I do not know. I'm not sure I feel comfortable telling you things if she doesn't approve," admitted the bearded giant.

Helen persisted. "But it's just basic info! Her birthday, for example! What if we want to celebrate it and throw a party for her or something?"

Ahmed sighed. "Birthdays are commonly used in identifying people. Especially if the person has hospital records."

Olivia told her sister to be quiet before explaining, "Look, we just want to know about her. We know nothing, and yet we care so much for her. That's not fair to us or to her. Friendship is a two-way street, Ahmed. We all know that."

He hesitated. "It wouldn't be appropriate. As much as she trusts me, I couldn't tell you anything. It's not my place. She trusts me. I can't betray her. Her safety, well-being. Hell, whether or not she lives depends on her controlling who all knows about her. I won't give her enemies or ill-wishers any way or reason to get to her if I can stop it. She's special. She has something about her that's different. She has told me, but I won't let that information reach anyone who shouldn't know it."

The demeanor of the table morphed, lighthearted jokes and amusement darkening into low, serious voices and worrying.

Sonia asked Ahmed, her trembling voice the ripple of water on a lake, "Is she a moral person? Is she someone we should trust? If she has enemies, what does that mean? What has she done?"

He smiled gently, reaching over to take her hand, enfolding it in both of his. "She is a very moral person, though that doesn't really make sense grammatically. We should trust her. Her having enemies means she's doing work that other people don't like because of their personal reasons. She's done nothing but help people. She's even helped me."

She murmured, still unable to understand her new friend, "Then why is she hiding from us if she's a good person?"

He spoke softly. "Why do good people hide at all? Sonia, she's fearful. She's terrified of what people may do to her if they learn about her. She has good reasons to be afraid of people. Her family hurt her because she was different from them. She hid the truth in fear of her safety, and they hurt her badly anyways. If not telling people anything at all is the best way for her to protect herself, she has a right to do that."

Elizabeth hurried back to the table, a plate filled with food balanced on one hand with a large glass of gently sloshing milk gripped tightly by the other. She set them down carefully in front of Sanjeevani, who still hadn't woken up. Alvin sighed, exasperation and fondness seeping through his voice as he jostled the young woman to consciousness in sweet Swedish words. " _Vakna, älskling. Du behöver äta."_

She whined before blearily opening her eyes and sitting up, propped up by Alvin's steady hand on her back. "If you don't eat, you won't function. You'll start grumbling to everyone about your early morning hunger pains, and none of us will feel bad for you," he warned. She pouted at him before leaning away from the table to stretch her arms and back before rubbing some consciousness into her face again.

"Fine, fine, you mother hen. I'll eat." She smiled slowly, blinking hard a couple of times to shake off the last of her slumber. She grabbed the fork and started shoveling pieces of garlic-roasted potato cubes into her mouth. "Okay, you were right. I am ravenous."

Ahmed laughed, nodding his head. "As expected. You still eat like a beast."

She squinted at him. " _You_ still eat like a proper aristocratic pansy, but you don't see _me_ saying anything." He huffed, rolling his eyes at the sound of his other friends all oohing at the retort from the tired young woman.

"You're so heartless, you know," he mused. She shrugged.

"Takes one to know one, dude." More 'oohing. She giggled softly, chewing on some salad greens as Ahmed pinched her arm. "Ow! Rude."

"Serves you right." He smiled at her petulant pout and stroked a hand down her hair. A spark lit in his eyes. "Do you mind if I braid your hair?"

She raised an eyebrow at the request, but nodded her head, continuing to eat peacefully. The others quickly stood up to go and retrieve food for themselves.

Ahmed turned her by her shoulders slightly, positioning her in a way that was more convenient for him to work with her hair.

Once the others returned, Sanjeevani asked softly, "Don't you need a comb or something?"

Ahmed began to respond when Helen squeaked, pulling a mini hairbrush out of her purse. "I have this!" He grinned, thanking her with a pat on her hand before taking hold of the brush. He sat back down and started brushing through Sanjeevani's hair.

He grunted at some of the tighter knots but worked through them gently. The others watched on in fascination since they'd never seen the girl's hair down before.

"How come your hair is so long?" wondered Timothy.

She grinned. "That, I can tell you about. My mom never had the chance to grow long hair because her hair took a long time to grow even an inch. So, she made me grow my hair super long. And because I dance, it's useful for that too. Indian classical dance basically requires women to have long hair. It's what was considered beautiful in old times, so we stick to that now, too. If a girl's hair isn't that long, there are even specific Indian artificial extensions to make it seem longer."

Helen mused, "Wow. Isn't it heavy? That would make it harder to dance, right?"

Sanjeevani winked at them as Ahmed began working her dark, curly locks into a French braid. "That's why Indian classical dancers are generally really strong. We have to carry a lot of weight from our hair, our jewelry, our clothes, our anklets, and everything else, so we end up unintentionally doing weight training every time we dance in full costume. Which is fairly often for me."

Olivia piped up from Ahmed's other side. "How long have you been dancing?"

"Uhhh…shit. Hold on." She bit her lip and set down her knife and fork to count on her hand. "One, two, three, four…Okay. I think it was for about fifteen years."

Alvin choked on his water. "Fifteen?! How old are you now?"

"No can do, brother. But I'll just say I'm a legal adult in America at the moment."

They nodded in understanding.

"Would you ever dance for us?" asked Ahmed. "I mean, you don't have to, but we'd love to see you do what you love."

She smiled sadly, leaning against him gently. He coiled an arm around her shoulders. "It's not what I love, buddy. It never was. It was always just something I did because my parents made me. But there's a part of it that I did love. That I do love."

Everyone paused, eyes focusing in on the small form of their new friend. Soft smiles, sweet eyes, slow heartbeats, as if the whole world had stopped to let them experience that moment. "When I'm dancing to the music I love or to music only I can hear, I lose myself to it. I just dance and I could go on forever until the world ends. I don't hear anything except the music in my head. I don't see anything except the next place I need to set my feet. I don't feel anything except my own body."

Not a word came from any of them, all mesmerized with the moment they were sharing.

She smiled wistfully, voice now weak with love and nostalgia. "One person has seen me in that state. Luke. A good friend, and a great man."

Olivia dared to make noise in that gorgeous silence by asking, "Who was he?"

Sanjeevani hummed. "My sailor friend. He found me dancing in a storm on the deck of the ship that brought me to France. I was almost sliding off the edge, and he brought me back to safety. I had just lost my family's love, and he was with me the next morning after each night I mourned."

Light in her eyes, smile on her lips, she continued her story. "I snuck onto a crate in the US. Damn, it was weird that I found one open and mostly empty. I climbed in and kept real quiet. Somehow, no one saw me get in. Even after, no one noticed me until three sailors doing inventory heard me breathing. They brought me up to the Captain's office, and we struck up a deal."

Mischief alight in her face. Everyone grinned. "For helping every sailor on the ship, the Captain would let me stay on the ship and get me safely into France."

Timothy chuckled, breaking the other eight friends' silence again. Sanjeevani smiled. "Luke was a darling. Stayed by my side the entire time. Another one, Matthew. He was the silent giant. A looming face always, but I never felt scared. Remember I said Luke saw me lost in my dance? Matthew and I fought later that night. Too complex to explain now, but it was rough. But we eventually made up." She laughed softly. "He was so protective that he didn't want to leave me alone with Luke. Even though we had just fought. He was a brother to me, the brute."

Alvin joked quietly, "So like Ahmed but rougher?"

She giggled sweetly, a song of bells ringing in her voice. "Yes. Exactly like that. I mean, Matthew isn't as affectionate or soft as Ahmed, but just as kind and understanding." She patted her giant friend's shoulder with a strong hand. Ahmed smiled warmly, pulling her into his side gently. "I made so many wonderful friends there. An older woman named Mrs. Baxter. She was my female confidant. My sister-in-arms. My mother away from my mother. She constantly guided me through any issue I had on that ship."

Sanjeevani breathed. "Luke, Matthew, Mrs. Baxter. Those guys were my rock. They kept me stable and functioning when I thought my life had gone to shit. Everything was better because of them. Once we got to France, they drove me everywhere I needed and only left once they knew I would be okay. I got their numbers, so I won't lose them completely, but I do miss them dearly."

Elizabeth asked, voice wet with emotion and love, "Would you stay with them forever if you could? It sounds like you really miss them a lot."

"Perhaps. But I want you guys too. I want them and you. I might be asking for a lot, but it doesn't seem like it. I want my friends. I want the people who love and care for me. I want to be surrounded by the love my parents refused me," she confessed. She smiled warmly a moment later. "When one family rejected me, the universe gave me another one."

Jacques reached across the table and took her hands into his, bright smile stretching his face as dark eyes shone with glassy tears. "Then we're glad to have you with us."

She cooed, squeezing his hands before letting go so Sonia could hug her beloved tightly. "If you softies are done eating, I'm going to rip open my heart to you all and let you judge me."

Tearful laughter and shaking shoulders. Alvin chuckled as he wiped at his face. The only ones less affected and not at all tearful were Timothy and Helen. Sanjeevani smiled and hugged Alvin and Ahmed close to her, kissing the tops of their heads as they rested their faces in her neck. "You all are so emotional, my goodness. A simple story about my time on a boat made you tearful, I wonder what would happen if I tell you guys my entire life story."

They laughed again, this time with less crying and more joy.

"Come on, now. Finish up. I have a looong story, and I expect a sleepover at the end of it. None of you look emotionally strong enough to sleep alone tonight."

Dinner only lasted another twenty minutes. And it only took that long because Helen and Timothy went back for more dessert. (It was a fabulous chocolate cheesecake with raspberries, okay?! They couldn't help themselves!)

Everyone had to pause for a little while before leaving, though. Dinner was massive. As if each person ate the same amount of food that an elephant would eat in a day.

Once their resting period ended, the nine stood up together and glanced at one another before walking to the elevator together. Again, Sanjeevani and Ahmed walked arm in arm, but the others walked behind them this time. They all stood steely silent while waiting to reach Sanjeevani's floor. You could drop a feather onto the carpet and hear the gentle thud. That's how quiet everyone was. It was a mixture of fear and excitement and confusion. The group didn't know what to expect and just went through the motions.

Sanjeevani and Ahmed walked ahead of the group, both their bodies shaking as they approached her door. She attempted to keep her fingers unmoving, but all in vain.

Fingers quivering, she reached into her back pocket to retrieve her key card. The door unlocked with a soft click, and she stepped inside slowly like she was a character in a horror movie exploring the haunted house her mom told her never to enter.

Her feet carried her as far as the desk chair into which she plopped, a rag doll of flesh and bone rather than cloth and cotton. Ahmed steadied her as she sat, making sure she didn't topple over onto the floor. The others quietly entered the room, sitting on the bed or on the floor. Ahmed sat on the floor at Sanjeevani's side, holding her hand gently.

She breathed in deeply, letting out a shaky exhale a second later. Everyone turned to her.

"You all never knew my name. You never knew anything about me, but you loved me anyway. I am eternally grateful for that. You deserve to know a lot." She sniffled, rubbing her face to clear away the rising tears. "But I need you all to promise me something first."

Alvin asked quietly, stiffly, "What do we need to promise you?"

She smiled sadly, chin quivering as her teeth chewed her bottom lip. "That you won't repeat to anyone any of this information I'm about to tell you for three years. That's all I ask. For three years, don't tell anyone any of this. If I tell this to others prior to those three years, then you can talk about it. But for now, don't tell anyone. Please?"

Olivia hummed. "Do you want us to sign something? A binding contract so we won't break it?"

"No. If you all are truly my friends, if you all truly care about me, you won't tell any of this to anyone no matter what you think of me after tonight," Sanjeevani explained. They all either remained silent or sighed.

This was getting just a bit weird for them.

"But don't be afraid. I'm not a murderer or a drug dealer or anything like that. Probably the opposite, honestly. Let me start from the beginning."

She glanced at Ahmed, who smiled up at her and squeezed her hand. "You have me. You're alright. Go on. Tell your story."

She pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks and pulled back with a grateful smile. Dark eyes returned to the other seven occupants of the room. "My name is Sanjeevani. I am nineteen years old. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia in the United States of America. My mother is from Tamilnadu in India, and my father is from Andhra Pradesh, also in India. I have a younger brother who's only six years old. He's my best friend ever."

The others remained silent, listening intently. "I have had a weird life for the past month or so. I am actually not from this dimension. I'm from another dimension. Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, found me and brought me to this reality to save Tony Stark. Mr. Stark had just used a gauntlet to destroy the evil alien forces that tried to destroy the universe. He died. But Doctor Strange and I were able to bring him back to life. I have these healing powers. I think they came from some kind of genetic mutation. I learned about them in my dimension, but my parents found out. They thought I had those powers forever and just hid my abilities from them. They got mad because they assumed I hid my powers and didn't want to help our sick family members. A lie. I only discovered them that day, but they got really mad. Started hitting me badly. I bled a lot. Doctor Strange saved me from that."

She breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate or cry, but it was unavoidable. Ahmed smiled as warmly as he could and gently pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair. She cried softly and clung to the lapels of his jacket before calming down somewhat and letting go.

She tried to shake off her sadness. "The Doc fought with my parents, and they basically disowned me because I chose to go with him instead of staying with them. He brought me to this reality. We saved Mr. Stark somehow. I can't remember the details of it because I passed out immediately after. Too much use of my powers for just having discovered them. The Avengers tried to recruit me. They wanted me to learn how to use my powers with Loki as my teacher. I wasn't ready to do all that stuff. I just. I just lost my family. My friends. My old life, everything. I needed to get away. So I snuck onto that ship going to France. Everything else is the same. The deal I made with the Captain was about me using my healing powers. If I healed everyone of their issues, he'd get me safely to France. And that's where the past catches up with the present."

Helen whispered. "How long? How long did you plan to hide this from us?"

Sanjeevani burst into tears again. "As long as I needed to keep safe. I would have been experimented on in my dimension. And I know people would want to do that to me in this dimension. I needed to stay safe. I _still need_ to stay safe. I can't risk this stuff getting out to anyone."

Ahmed curled her up into his arms, trying to gently rock her back and forth into peace. It wasn't working much, but at least she stopped sobbing.

Alvin swallowed audibly. He stood on quaking legs and walked towards Sanjeevani, kneeling down in front of her. He took one of her hands and held it in both of his, locking eyes with her when she glanced at him. "Will you show us? Show us what you can do?"

She bit her lip, her eyes still wider than she would have preferred and hands still shaking harder than she would have preferred. Slowly, her head bobbed up and down in a weak nod. "Is anyone hurt? Any injuries that need healing? It's fine if they're old or new. I can't really heal scars, though. Not yet, anyway."

Alvin looked at the others. Everyone's eyes fell on Jacques when he stood up. He approached the crying young superhuman and explained softly, "You know I was beaten when trying to leave my country and continent. So many whippings on my back and shoulders. Can you heal them all?" He knelt down as she did the same, unable to continue sitting on that chair, looking down at the others.

She sniffled, rubbing away her tears and crying. "I will try my hardest." Jacques nodded, pulling his shirt off in one fluid motion.

The others winced at the numerous lacerations and slashes and wounds covering the dark, youthful skin. Sanjeevani choked in a breath when he turned his back to her, revealing the injuries. She held her hand over her mouth to cover a little cry of shock and horror. She stood up and hurried to the bathroom, vigorously washing her hands before rushing back to her friend.

She rested both hands flat against the wound-free areas on his back, cooing gently to keep him calm. The young man winced at the sensation and attempted to not shy away from her touch. Sanjeevani hummed a soft lullaby to console him while focusing on her inner light, once again drawing it up and out of her like a string. Her hands began to glow white and gold, radiating smooth pulses of energy like ripples in still water.

The other seven friends who'd never witnessed her at work watched on in fascination and awe as each of the injuries filled up with tissue before the skin knit itself together over the open flesh. The wounds closest to her hands healed much earlier than did the wounds furthest, but within a minute or so, the skin was perfect once more. Clean, unharmed, as if there was never any damage to Jacques' back to begin with.

Sanjeevani pulled her hands away and smiled at her freshly healed friend, who turned around to gaze at her in shock. He stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror and turned his back to it, gazing at the reflection over his shoulder. He nearly screamed in shock.

Instead of screaming, though, he sprinted back to Sanjeevani and threw his arms around her in a tight hug, pulling back to lay kisses to both her cheeks. "God bless you. You did what no doctor could have ever done. Not even scars, my friend! Not even scars! I don't know who created you, who created your powers, but you only deserve good things in this life. Only good things."

Sanjeevani smiled, laughing tearfully through the hug and kisses. Her smile fell when she noticed the others' slack-jawed expressions.

Choking on the ball of tears in her throat while trying to stop the quaking in her hands, she croaked out, "So, what do you think?"

Not a sound existed in her head except the violent drumming of her heart.

* * *

Loki understood fear. He'd felt it innumerable times in his life. He knew it when he first felt the hatred of other Asgardians towards him for his childish mischief. He knew it when his father first raised his booming voice against him. He knew it when he first discovered magic's danger. He knew it when he learned of his true heritage. He knew it when war began within him, his Jotun birth fighting his Asgardian upbringing. He knew it when he fell into the cosmos and then proceeded to nearly die at every moment of his life. He knew it when Thanos crushed the life from his throat.

He even knew it when he felt the pull of that Earth witch's magic on his being, slowly drawing him out of oblivion.

Upon his death, he presumed he would go to Helheim. He didn't. Because Hela was dead. He then thought he might go to Valhalla, but Odin didn't accept him, saying Loki's work in the world of the living wasn't yet over. At last, he thought maybe Freya, in her beautiful mercy, might _at least_ accept him into Folkvangr, but the woman laughed, saying the same thing Odin did. He was left to wait in what he called The Middle for what felt like years. For what was actually years.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

And then, as if the universe was being born again, golden light erupted in front of him in a beautiful circle made of sparks. Strange called to him. " _Hello, old friend. You can return now. No more mischief, but you are needed here. Perhaps even wanted. Come back to Earth."_

Loki had choked on his breath a moment before sprinting into that golden ring, eagerly awaiting the experience of being alive in actual space-time again.

And when he returned to Earth, he landed back where he began. Norway. Where he'd seen his father dissolve into the air like stardust. He knelt down at the edge of the cliff and gazed out at the sea, spreading his arms even as they shook violently. Fear ruled his body for so long, it controlled him even in his joyful times.

But he tried to ignore it. He let himself simply exist and feel. The magic in the environment and all around him slowly brought him back to a more stable state of mind. The magic in the air, the grass under his knees, the scent of the sea in his nose, the clouds floating far above him, the sun shining over it all. He could feel all the magic he'd learned from Frigga to love like his own family. Emerald eyes had closed shut in the rapture of being out in that beautiful world. When they opened again, they briefly illuminated with beautiful verde and golden tones.

He stood up and stretched out his arms and legs before teleporting himself to where he felt the greatest magic signatures. It would likely be where all the Avengers were, knowing Thor and his propensity for showing off his newfound lightning powers.

And his heart clenched with fear once more.

War. Like he'd never seen before. Brutal. Unrelenting. Heartless. Bloody. Inhumane. Horrifying. Like the crimes he committed when he first came to Earth.

Ocean eyes watched on in horror as good and evil alike tore one another apart violently, both yearning for the sweet ambrosia of victory. The Avengers and their fellow heroes fought with vigor and purpose. But Thanos' armies fought with equal vigor and rage. Neither side seemed to have any particular advantage over the other.

A few events stuck to Loki during the battle: Steve Rogers wielding Mjölnir, the arrival of Carol Danvers, the return of the fallen heroes snapped away, and the death of Tony Stark.

Some of these events surprised him. Others, simply, he couldn't forget.

He stood, waiting, hoping for something. He didn't know what made him want to stand there forever and just watch the lives of those significant humans unfold before him, but the thought was compelling.

That Earth witch, Strange, opened a portal and left. In a few minutes, he returned with a young woman at his side.

And then Loki was moving closer.

Her hair stuck to her face and head, black locks wet with dark blood. Dark skin, despite black bruises, like the sheen of coffee beans. Eyes empty but glinting like polished ebony. Hair of flowing obsidian. Features distinct and sharp, but all rounded corners and pain-softened smile lines. A broken porcelain doll, Loki likened her. Soft and sweet and pretty, but shattered.

She spoke so softly, like she was the one nursing others' wounds even while brutally injured. She never raised her voice, clearly trained from childhood to keep quiet if not asked to speak louder. Her smiles weren't happy. Neither were her eyes.

She spoke to Virginia Potts-Stark with sad love and promised to try her best. The older woman seemed to lose all hope.

The girl put her hands on Tony Stark, and they glowed. Loki yearned to know her secret. Inch by inch, Iron Man's body healed. Emerald eyes watched every second of the action from a distance. Magic radiated from her like the light of a candle. Dim, but not unnoticeable. Just bright enough that he could see her gold and white aura shining around her. But as he interfered slightly, trying to read her, his magic somehow got involved, and her gold and white tones began to shimmer with hints of green, the same occurring in her hands.

She wasn't pulling on him, though. Simply doing her work as his magic slowly wove in with hers in tiny increments. He pulled away as soon as he could, not wanting Strange to notice. Who knows what the other Sorcerer would assume about him?

And then, Strange worked with two Infinity Stones and pulled Tony Stark's soul out of somewhere.

The girl got involved then, too. Her hands rested over Stark's chest and as the soul made contact with the body, she pushed. She forced all her powers into this healing, not knowing exactly what she had to do, and in milliseconds, Stark was alive again. The girl passed out promptly, but magic flowed off of her like nothing he'd ever seen in any other human. Strange's magic was specific and momentary and required conscious effort. She…she was weird.

But Loki was not afraid of her.

Rather, he was afraid of consequences. Loki feared the consequences of bringing a girl from another dimension to this one. He was afraid that Strange had just put two of the same person into one dimension and a rift would open in reality at any moment.

But nothing happened. As far as Loki knew, the moment another version of the same person entered a different reality, some kind of catastrophic event should have happened. But all was still and well. Tony Stark was embracing his fellow Avengers and was working with the other heroes to fix up what used to be the Avengers' HQ, and the girl was passed out in Strange's arms as he tried to wake her up and take her somewhere safe to replenish her health.

And so Loki reached forward with his magic and scoured the girl's soul, trying to remember all the details and information he saw. He pulled away a moment later and searched for someone of the same soul, eyes shut to better concentrate.

He found no one. No one at all. His heart dropped into his stomach. He worried that Strange had just torn a rift in space-time enough to kill a person as soon as their self from another dimension entered this world.

But he wasn't sure. So, he did more research. He snuck away, teleporting to a library at the center of New York with a new face to hide his identity. He scoured through government archives of every person alive and dead with the name 'Sanjeevani' in the US. To his surprise and slight amusement, there was a person. The same person, actually. Sanjeevani Rao, born in Atlanta, Georgia in 2004. The discovery of the next facts was not so amusing. Apparently, she'd died from a brutal murder seven years ago when she was walking home from school. Her parents and brother waited all day for her. A missing person case, a five-month-long search, even a massive bounty. Nothing. And to everyone's horror, her body showed up at her high school.

Loki winced. A dark story for such an innocent girl. Unable to read more of the horrifying details, he closed it up, deleted all the history, and teleported back to the compound, this time right in the middle of the Avengers' meeting with the young woman. Strange had left to go take care of rebuilding other parts of the world with the sorcerers while the girl spoke to the heroes.

The Avengers bombarded the young woman with questions that she really couldn't answer. Eventually, he saw an opportunity to enter the conversation and teased Thor as his entrance, only for the giant Asgardian to crush him in a hug. Loki melted a little bit, though he would never say it aloud.

He had missed his brother dearly, so he grasped the opportunity to hug Thor back a moment later, letting the Thunderer squeeze him. He eventually wrangled free, unable to breathe in the too-tight hug. The two shared a moment, which they had never truly done since they were younger.

Thor pleaded with him to stay. Loki wanted to say no. The terror of having to face humanity again after his crimes against them had sent him into a panic. He would never let Thor know, but Loki truly despised being on Earth again, fearful of what they would do to him should they all know he had returned. The heroes would give him a chance, perhaps. But the normal humans would not. They definitely would not. So Loki gave any reason he could to avoid staying near humanity, yearning to go back to his beloved Asgardian people who also hated him. But Thor's hopeful, tearful eyes tore at his heart, and he couldn't bear to refuse the request.

If Thor wanted him here, Thor would protect him and try to keep him here. He would at least try. He didn't even have to do anything undesirable. Except…

Except for the girl. Thor explained how she needed a teacher to help her with her powers. Learn about them. Develop them. Master them. Maybe even expand them. And Loki wanted to. He wanted to see what this girl was made of. He wanted to see what lived in her heart. He wanted to rip her to shreds and build her up again into a warrior of his own making. A sentinel of goodwill and love and healing. His own personal soldier of the light.

He wanted to test her first, though. He wanted to see if she was worth teaching. A teacher is only as good as the student learning from him. So he told Thor to move in order to better see her. Inspect her.

But when the man stepped aside, the girl was missing. The others glanced around the room before focusing in on the elevator, where the girl smiled at them. She waved and blew kisses to Stark and the young child-hero before disappearing behind the steel doors. Loki couldn't help but smile deep inside his mind. She just passed his first test. Not only was she sneaky, but she was also clever. She knew she couldn't handle it all now and was running away. Retreat is only shameful in the eyes of a man who always wins. In the eyes of a true tactician, a retreat is another tool in the shed, another option in battle. She showed him she knew herself enough to understand when to step back and leave.

So he stopped them. He told them not to follow her. He did make up the part about her getting angrier and more rebellious. She was a broken girl who just lost her family's love. She would crave any kind of parental treatment she could get. She would come back if they asked her to.

But that's not what she needed. She needed to fix herself and get into the right state of mind. Hero work is taxing. It is a strain on the mind, body, and soul. To be ready for that work, she had to be willing to break her mind, body, and soul over and over until she was as perfect as possible. She had to be strong and unmoving in the face of adversity. For that, she had to face adversity first. So he let her leave. He wanted her to struggle.

He wanted her to come to him, gleaming scraps of iron and silver and gold, so that he could melt her down and forge a new sword from her broken pieces.

Of course, he couldn't let her get stuck in the basic processes of bureaucracy, which is why he gave her everything she needed to reach her destination without worry. The moment he entered his room to sleep for the night, he sat on the ground and meditated, ensuring that every part of her journey went as needed.

He wanted her broken, not incinerated. Besides. You can make something from scraps or pieces, but you can't make something from ashes and atoms.

And so, he let her leave. She would come back when she was ready. He'd have to wait. (He hated waiting.)

Too bad he was still worried about her. His plans didn't always work out, and he did worry that this plan would be one of those.

But he didn't have time to worry. He had to fix the Earth. He folded back his sleeves and rubbed his face before returning to his files and papers and diagrams and screens. Was it a lot of work? Yes. Did he love it? Absolutely. It felt like ruling Asgard, but with more hands-on activities.

What a mess Earth was in. Good thing Loki had returned to sweep up the dirt and begin cleaning up.

* * *

As Loki once more drowned himself in his duties and responsibilities for the day, Stephen Strange worked up the courage to finally do the dream communication ritual Loki had explained to him.

He had finally learned enough about the dream world that his anxiety about entering an odd new realm lessened greatly. He was still unsure, but being able to see the kid would be worth the risk of entering the dream world. He sighed while closing the book he'd been reading. He really just had to call her by her name. Names have power. It's just better (and more damn respectful) to use her name.

That night, he climbed into bed with the herb and necklace at his bedside. He dropped the herb into a tall glass of water and watched as the wide leaves dissolved like aspirin. He drank the whole thing in one go, gulping down the tart liquid like a dehydrated man seeing water for the first time. He slipped the necklace over his head and lied down on the soft cotton sheets, pressing his head against the pillow.

As soon as he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him, he felt his mind wander away. Strings of magic pulled at him, drawing his soul away from the current reality into a different one.

When he awakened again, he found himself in a strange new place with rivers as the earth and bubbles as the sky. He treaded lightly, taking care to not step on anything dangerous-looking.

His eyes spotted some kind of bright light illuminating a large forest-like area a few yards away. As he walked, the yards turned into miles. When he called out to the light, the distance suddenly lessened, becoming only feet. He continued walking, aquamarine eyes zeroing in on the form of the light. He gasped at the sight.

Sanjeevani, the young, inexperienced heroine she is, stood in the dream realm in shock and terror, skin blazing with light as if she were the sun.

He kept calling to her. She didn't hear him. She glowed brighter as her crying became more audible to him. He winced at the loud sobs and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. She didn't move, continuing to cry terribly. And like the flip of a switch, she whipped around, glanced at his face, and screamed louder than he thought humanly possible.

* * *

"Please, guys. If you're quiet any longer, I might lose my mind," she begged.

Timothy started, "Um. Look. Uh. We…we don't understand you. We can't even imagine comprehending what just happened. But…you're still our friend. You still care for us, don't you?"

A weak nod, hopeful wet eyes, and quivering lips. "More than anything in my life."

Elizabeth smiled. "Then you're still ours. Still our dear friend."

A tense pause. The thumping of terrified hearts. The shallow breathing of nervous lungs. The slow, baleful stares of nine youths. One last moment of hesitation before the eight surrounded the singular, and they all clung to one another. Sobs of relief from the singular as the eight console her tears and cajole her to smile, all gentle and soft and smooth.

Ahmed bundled her up into his arms and kept her wrapped tightly in his embrace as the others huddled around them.

Another few moments spent in beloved company and tight hugs.

Release and relief flooded the room, rushing through exhausted hearts. The soft smiles of a story's resolution fill their faces with childish joy. Kisses are exchanged, and hugs are offered and accepted. Eyes shine with love, and faces are observed with scientific adoration and impossible affection.

Sanjeevani curled against Ahmed's side and smiled up at him, tears still gently streaking down her face. "Thank you for bringing them into my life."

He laughed warmly, reaching a thumb down to wipe away the tears. "You are very welcome."

Dark eyes fluttered shut as he leaned down to kiss her forehead with loving hesitation. "I'm glad you're here with us. I'm glad you trust us. There's nothing more that we can ask."

She huffed, pulling back with a grin. "Incorrect. I can heal all of you. No worries about that. It's part of me anyways, and I do not want to hear of you guys getting hurt when I can heal you."

Timothy groaned loudly. "I just realized. You weren't talking about your period earlier, were you?"

A playful smirk and a shrug of bare shoulders. "You tell me."

Alvin gaped, only just having understood what the older man was referring to. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't. I didn't realize that-"

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "The way we talked, your assumption is understandable. But yeah. I was talking about my powers. Because they come from me, I need to eat a lot to make up for the loss of energy. It's also why I get super, super cold really quick. My energy goes mainly into healing if I'm focused on that at a certain moment, so if I borrow your blankets or jackets for a long time, please don't be mad."

"More like eternally borrow our clothes. Aka stealing. It's fine. Just give them back at some point before winter," grumbled Olivia.

Sanjeevani pouted. "But it's even colder at that time of year!"

Ahmed rolled his eyes. "I'll get you a heated blanket, you child."

A happy little giggle and a kiss to a bearded cheek. "Thank youuu!"

"Oh, hush, you. Absolutely spoiled, you are." He wouldn't admit it, but treating her like his idiot sister who he loved more than anyone was the best part of their friendship. She snorted, leaning back into his torso.

"You love me for it. Besides, whose fault is that?"

Ahmed sighed, nodding reluctantly. "I suppose it is mine. But probably not. You're terrible."

Sonia laughed loudly. "You two are so adorable. Like two siblings."

Sanjeevani grinned widely up at her tall friend, relishing in his expression of disdain and horror mixed with a pinch of exasperation. "I would rather burn for eternity than be related to this one," he huffed.

She snorted, a smirk curling onto her lips when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders upon her leaning against him. "Liar, liar."

He put a hand over her mouth and smiled charmingly at the others, all pearly teeth and sunshine. "I propose that we get to the roof and make her dance for us."

Timothy grinned evilly. "Here, here!"

Elizabeth raised her hand up high, along with Olivia and Helen. Alvin shrugged and nodded, clearly trying to appear nonchalant about the whole issue even as curiosity sparked secretly in his eyes.

Sonia threw both arms up alongside Jacques, who snickered at Sanjeevani's grumpy groan. She had covered her face to hide from her friends' eyes and avoid looking at their faces.

"I certainly agree. Now." He gently pushed his embarrassed friend forward so he could look her in the face. Steady, veiny hands grasped shivering wrists and pulled her face free. Two sets of ebony eyes met with such intensity that four of the occupants in the room shivered subconsciously. "Will you dance for us? It is your art. It is your craft. We won't force it if you don't want to."

A confused stare, a hesitant bite of the lip, and a soft hum of recognition later, and Sanjeevani agreed, smiling up at her darling friend. "Yeah. If there's anyone worth dancing for, it's you guys."

Ahmed beamed, leaning down to kiss her forehead again before letting go of her hands.

With a squeal of terror and disdain, she tried to get away as Helen pounced on her, rubbing their cheeks together. "Awww, you both are sooo cuuuute!" She giggled, kissing the other woman's cheek while Sanjeevani tried to burrow into Ahmed to avoid her screaming friend.

"HELEN, LEAVE ME ALONE. WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER TROJAN WAR RIGHT NOW."

Everyone burst into laughter at the petrified response from their weird super-friend.

Even Helen died of laughter while draped over the dark-haired woman. They all eventually stood up, Sanjeevani still curled into Ahmed's side as they walked up to the roof. Timothy walked backward in front of them, eyes wide and smile hopeful. "So uh. Were you supposed to be in the Avengers?"

Sanjeevani grinned. "Basically? Yeah. They wanted me to join and help out in missions. But…"

Olivia frowned, looping her elbow with the younger woman's free arm. "If you could join, why didn't you? They're such a prestigious, powerful group. You would have had things so great, sweetie."

She smiled, patting Olivia's hand. "My parents had just disowned me. I wasn't ready. My heart was completely broken. _I_ was broken. I couldn't cope. I could barely pull myself to bring back Mr. Stark. I couldn't go into missions and save lives when I lost everything I ever loved. It destroyed me, that day. So I ran. I got away. I got as far as possible so I could be sad without them disturbing me or getting in my way or trying to bring me back there. Europe was as far as I could go while still feeling safe."

Dark eyes grew distant, gazing at the floor emptily but with such nostalgia that even Olivia's heart ached for her friend. "I miss my old life so much. My family. My friends. But I know they're better off without me."

Ahmed stopped, and Sanjeevani was yanked back because she still walked forward. The two met eyes, the young woman frowning deeply at her friend's behavior. "Ahmed? Buddy, what's going on?"

"Why are you lying to us?"

"What?"

He sighed, pulling her forward. "You still miss them. You still want them to miss you. Sanjeevani, you don't need to hide your sadness from us. We have all been in your situation at least once. We understand your pain. Don't hide your suffering when we've lived it too."

She shook her head, curling her arms around his neck in a tired hug. "I'm not hiding my feelings for you guys' sake, Ahmed. I'm hiding them for me. Because if I think that my old loved ones don't care how about me, I won't be so hurt and heartbroken and homesick. Basically, it's not real if I don't think about it. It's all easier that way. Maybe I'll go back once I've made peace with literally everything, but I'm not ready to face that aspect of my new reality. Not yet."

He sighed and rubbed her back, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple while they hugged. "Oh, my dear friend. I understand. We won't force that conversation." He pulled back a little and rubbed away the tears rising in her eyes. "Let's go watch you dance. But please, don't fall over the edge. I don't want to deal with the paperwork of blood on the sidewalk," he joked.

She snickered, bobbing her head in agreement before letting go of his neck and instead taking his elbow. She rested her chin against the curve of his shoulder, the dim fluorescent lights once again illuminating her smile. "You ready to keep going?"

He grinned. "Of course."

Elizabeth hooked her elbow with Sanjeevani's elbow, smiling warmly. "Just saying, you two would be super cute together."

She shook her head, laughing just a little too hard. Ahmed groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Oh God, no. Allah have mercy. That would be a punishment incapable of comprehending. This woman is better as a friend than a romantic partner. Have you heard her jokes? Have you seen her eat? Horrendous. As if a beast has possessed her. I'm fine the way I am, thank you."

Sanjeevani pouted. "I was just gonna say you're really nice and charming and helpful and not too bad looking, and that you're not my type, but okay. If that's how you wanna do this, fine. He's a total jerk. Completely heartless. No comprehension of social cues of fashion, and he acts like an old man all the time."

Ahmed laughed loudly, throwing an arm around her shoulders to keep his balance. "You're so heartless."

"Says you, old man."

They all trudged up the stairs, almost collapsing once they reached the door that opened out to the roof. The nine youths stepped into the crisp air quietly, all collectively moving towards the center of the space. They all laid their jackets and scarves down on the ground so they wouldn't have to sit on concrete.

They sat in a small circle, laughing and making jokes about how quickly they got tired climbing up a few flights of stairs.

Silence slowly blanketed the group, who all kind of turned to Sanjeevani with expectant eyes and encouraging smiles. "So. Are you going to dance?"

She rolled her eyes. "I already said I would." She carefully came to her feet and removed her shoes.

"Wait, don't take off your shoes! It's concrete. You can't dance barefoot!" exclaimed Helen.

"Actually, that's how it's supposed to be done. Wearing shoes while dancing is disrespectful to the stage, the musicians, and the audience. You're basically trampling the clean space of performance with dirt. Besides, you can't wear shoes and dance Indian classical effectively. We are a lot more active than other dance forms," Sanjeevani explained calmly. She took a few steps away from the group, praying silently for a few moments before readying herself for the performance.

Timothy pointed out, "Wait, there's no music! Don't you need music?"

She paused. "Uh. If you guys want. I always dance without music, but if you want me to dance to something specifically, you can pick something out."

Ahmed grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened YouTube, picking a song from some Indian movie that his mother loves a lot. "Is this okay?"

Sanjeevani stopped to listen to the music for a moment, and her face split into a big grin. "I know this song! I've performed it before! Yeah, this is perfect."

She sighed and nodded, tying her hair up in a tight braid before getting ready to dance. "Push it back to the beginning. Only hit play when I say so." She stood with the left leg bent and the right leg straight, left hand gently curved around the left hip as her right hand concealing her face while she gazed down at the ground in front of her left foot.

"Play."

Everyone observed her movements quietly, all trying to understand the music in their ears and the dance happening before them.

Sanjeevani slowly moved her limbs down when the tinkling sound of anklets began in the song, and she walked forward, eyes far more intense than any of her friends had ever seen. She smiled almost as if sharing a secret with all of them, winking playfully right before moving into a series of rapid spins as soon as the music sped up.

As soon as the percussion stopped and only the singing of a velvet voice and soft chattering of anklets remained, she stopped moving as well, only making movement when the percussion resumed.

With every new phrase, she would move her arms and hands and change her facial expressions, quickly moving her feet to match the gentle patter of the drums in the background.

The song went on for more than four minutes. Each word and phrase bringing new vigor to the dancer's motion and performance.

They all winced at the sight of her feet hitting the concrete with almost inhuman strength.

Timothy and Elizabeth watched with quiet fascination. They'd never seen any kind of dance similar to this. Maybe the dances from Spain like flamenco, but it wasn't nearly as intense as Sanjeevani's motions. Helen and Olivia just grinned as they observed her bright facial expressions, ebony skin almost glowing under the full moon above them all.

Ahmed watched her with a little amusement and mostly respect, knowing the difficulty of her craft. After all, his own sister was a dancer. He knew they worked hard to perfect performances.

Sonia and Jacques were having more fun than the others, clapping in the right places and watching her with a kind of interest and awe that brought true elation to the young woman's heart. She'd never had such wonderful audience members before.

Alvin, he had a similar reaction. He was mostly curious, partly concerned, and quite awed at the complex and fast movements of the dance. At the end of the song, Sanjeevani did the last few spins and finished her performance by facing them all with her arms outstretched, legs pressed together, and face turned up to the sky.

Panting like she'd just run a marathon, Sanjeevani grinned at her friends. "What do you guys think? Was it good? What are your thoughts, opinions?"

Ahmed beamed, clapping loudly. "That was phenomenal."

She bowed, laughing. "Thanks."

Multiple compliments popped up after that. She grinned and sat down with the group again. Her eyes fell on the far-too-red Alvin. "You okay, buddy? Your face is bright pink."

He nodded. "I'm not very used to being outside so any mild heat or cold makes my skin turn red," he admitted. She laughed a little and nodded, patting his shoulder.

"I don't think I can fix that. Sorry!" the young woman teased. Alvin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Helen squeaked suddenly, drawing everyone's eyes to her.

"What is it now, Helen?" groaned Olivia.

The girl whimpered, pointing to Sanjeevani's bloodied, almost mangled feet. "That!"

"Oh, that's no big deal. It'll heal on its own. Give it a little while. I've had worse than some scratches and blood." Sanjeevani didn't appear at all concerned that she jammed out so hard to the song that her feet bled.

Alvin choked. "Worse?!"

"Bro, I dislocated four bones in both my feet one time. This is baby shit."

Helen gagged, only calming down when Sanjeevani forcefully healed her foot again, forcing her body's natural repair mechanisms to go into overdrive. Because of the healing, her skin started glowing again, but the light appeared more prominent due to the darkness of the night sky surrounding them.

"You're like the sun at nighttime. How are you going to be a superhero if you glow every time you use your powers? You'll give yourself away!" criticized Elizabeth.

Sanjeevani rolled her eyes. "Sis, relax. I'll get a costume or make a costume that doesn't let any light through. There's that cool new material that's so black that it drains light. I'll probably use that and stitch white cloth over it so the outside of the costume is white, but my shit won't glow."

Ahmed sighed. "It's quite an expensive material."

She grinned. "I'm not book smart, but I can work my way around job stuff, Ahmed. I'll manage."

Helen looked at her worriedly, asking with a quivering voice and quivering chin, "Aren't you scared? People are really bad. They might hurt you. And you need lots of food, so what if you can't bring any? And what if you can't heal someone?"

Sanjeevani scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her clearly concerned friend. "Helen, really. You're worrying too much. Of course I'm scared. But I can't sit and do nothing when I can help people. That's what being a hero means. People are bad. But they're usually bad for a reason, so we need to help them if we can. If not, we need to bring them to justice and then help that way. Even if they hurt me, I'll get better. I'll keep going. If I can't bring any, I'll eat what I can. Whatever will give me calories. Hell, I've downed a huge bottle of vodka just for energy. I can do that again. And just because I _might not_ be able to heal someone doesn't mean I shouldn't at least try, right?"

Ahmed smiled, wondering to himself when his silly friend became a philosopher, or pep-talker, or whatever. He was usually the one teaching her. Giving her guidance and information and support. When did their roles change?

His fellow Indian smiled warmly and calmed down her fretful young friend.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Your powers are from a mutation? How did you work with Dr. Strange and his magic stuff, then?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, the Infinity Stones aren't magic either, but Strange could use them. How am I supposed to know the specifics? And besides, all powers need training. Including mine, which are pretty reflexive. Speaking of, I need a place to practice and stuff."

Ahmed volunteered an idea. "Basement. There's plenty of ventilation, but no one goes down there because they think it's creepy and haunted."

"Why would you suggest that to me?!"

Timothy sighed. "All of you hush. Let's just go back down and sleep. We'll need the rest. Come on."

From his forceful decision, everyone lugged themselves up from the concrete and trudged down cement stairs, all yawning softly and holding onto each other.

Sleep came quickly once everyone settled in Sanjeevani's room. No one had any inclination to return to their own places, so they silently bundled up with comforters and blankets and the many pillows stocked under the bed. The couples slept on the couches, the siblings slept on one bed, and everyone else just managed to curl up wherever they wanted.

Unfortunately, everyone woke up to their female superhuman friend crying and screaming in her sleep. She only explained herself once morning arrived and melted away her fears.


	5. Stranger

"Sanjeevani, why the hell are you screaming?!", "What's going on?!", "It's five in the morning!" came the exhausted exclamations of the young woman's friends.

The recent adult sat up and started sobbing, putting her face in her hands. At that motion, her new best friend rushed to her side and took her hands, cradling her in massive arms. Ahmed sighed and cooed at her, trying to lull the girl into calmness again. "Slow down, sweetie. Calm down, sweetheart. Now. Tell me and the others what's wrong. What happened?"

Sniffling and rubbing at the tip of her nose, Sanjeevani replied tearfully, "Doctor Strange is dead."

The youths all collectively choked on their spit and stared at their female super-powered companion in shock. They each looked at one another and turned back to the sobbing teen.

"Angie, what are you talking about?" Sonia probed hesitantly.

Sanjeevani pulled away from Ahmed and sat up on the edge of the bed, gazing at her new family with heartache bright in his eyes. "Remember how I said Doctor Strange brought me to this dimension? I saw him in my dreams. We were in this really weird place. I don't know what happened, but he looked like he didn't belong there. I couldn't feel his life force…he's dead."

Ahmed frowned, pushing himself up and onto a chair at the desk nearest to him. "That doesn't sound right. Dreams work differently from real life, I'm pretty sure. And I don't know if you can sense people's life force through dreams."

With a downward gaze, Sanjeevani bit her lip. "But it felt so real…"

He tapped his lips and hummed, eyes wandering towards the ceiling as he worked through how to carefully word his statement to his emotionally sensitive friend. "I don't think it's right to trust everything we see in a dream. Sure, they may indicate something about our real-life that our subconscious wanted to tell us but couldn't find any proper way to do it. But they're not an end-all-be-all kind of thing. They happen without our control unless you can lucid dream."

"Oh…" her already dim eyes grew dimmer still. Recognizing the heaviness in her friend's heart, Olivia stepped over and wrapped both arms around the grieving girl.

"Okay, you two. Let's relax. I'm sure it was some kind of nightmare that may have stemmed from something you remembered about him or his safety subconsciously," Olivia soothed. With a huff and a squint, the young woman glowered at Ahmed, who smiled sheepishly. "We don't know if the death part is real or fake, but we can always check on the news. I'm sure they'd report about the death of such a famed neurosurgeon."

Breathing rate more balanced now, Sanjeevani nodded, reaching for the television remote on her bedside table. She switched on the TV and moved to the most accurate news channel. The group watched the screen and their friend with delicate deliberation: teeth biting at lips, fingers picking at frayed fibers, and toes digging into the cheap carpet of the floor. They had to make sure she wouldn't freak out if it was true that the Sorcerer Supreme really did die, for the sake of her own mental health.

Moments of stress seemed to follow Sanjeevani like a hive of angry bees. You run and run and run, and when you think the threat shows up within seconds. has ended, it returns with more wrath than ever before. The friends experienced more concern for her than for themselves. Having lived harsh lives, they knew how to handle their emotional toll. But their newest companion had very little experience with such struggles and was more prone to trauma from the gentleness of her heart. And anything that hurt her heart would hurt them the same way. Friends of a feather stick together.

When nothing about Doctor Strange popped up, the youths lunged for their phones while Sanjeevani sat and panicked, clutching her head and covering her ears with both hands. She rocked back and forth, trying to keep out the bad thoughts. Not like it would work, though. They followed her everywhere.

Olivia smiled softly and pulled her friend's hands away and forced her to look down at the phone. "He's fine. Still leading missions to fix parts of the world. He's not dead, Angie. Okay? He's perfectly safe. Relax."

Sanjeevani, again, slowed down and breathed. "Whoa. Okay. Sorry, guys…" She rubbed her face and sighed. "It's been a lot to deal with." Everyone knew exactly what she meant. "I just couldn't handle losing someone else. Losing another adult figure in my life." They nodded, and she smiled, standing up to stretch. "Anyways, I'm sure we all need to get ready. I certainly don't have enough toothbrushes for all of y'all, so you might want to head back to your rooms. Let's get together again for lunch, okay?"

Groaning, her friends all stood and stretched to get ready for departure. Sonia walked closer and leaned entirely against the shorter girl, resting her head on the healer's shoulder. "I'm too tired. Carry me."

Laughing, the other woman refused. "That's what Jacques is for. Besides, I need to brush my teeth and shower. I've sweated through my clothes, sis."

Rolling their eyes from exhaustion and exasperation, the other eight people funneled out of the room, each going their separate ways to freshen up and get ready for the day. Sure, it was five in the morning, but they were too alert to go back to sleep. Sanjeevani twisted around a few times to crack her back and quickly hurried into the bathroom, ready to peel off her sweat-dampened clothes and jump into the shower.

All clean and squeaky after having taken her sweet time shaving, showering, and shivering after the water went cold, Sanjeevani clothed herself and grabbed up her backpack. She tossed in everything she would need, including her journal with her business plans, her dance clothes, her makeup and jewelry, a few water bottles, and a few more necessary items. She rushed down to the cafeteria, smiling at the sight of Ahmed waiting at the elevator for her again. With a laugh, the two hooked elbows and ran for the table their friends occupied. "Angie, why do you have your backpack with you?" wondered Elizabeth. "Please tell me you're not going on the run again," she pleaded.

The girl laughed. "No, no. Not at all. I'm off to start looking for a job. I know what I want to do, but I need to work for someone before I set up my own dance school. Hard to make it in dance out of nowhere with no place to teach. So, if I work at someone else's school for a while, I can get into the industry and work my way up to start my own school."

Jacques sighed in relief and rolled his eyes. "Must you always give us a heart attack?" He chuckled at his friend's childish shrug, regretless giggle, and excited sprint for the food lines.

The eight glanced at one another. Alvin verbalized their shared thought: "This girl is gonna give us unending headaches."

Sanjeevani returned with a mountain of food and a glass of milk taller than her head. She sat down, at first ignoring her friends' pointed looks. When they didn't stop, she stopped eating and glanced around the table. "What?"

Elizabeth and Timothy simultaneously smacked their foreheads onto the table.

Helen sighed. "Seriously. Where does all that food go?"

The young pre-heroine rolled her eyes. "Not to my waist, that's for sure. I got called a toothpick for the past four years."

With a smack to Ahmed's arm to make him sit in her seat, Olivia plopped down beside her weirdest friend and poked her cheek. "But seriously. How can you eat that much? It's so much food!"

Sanjeevani grumbled. "Whatever, Olivia. You basically eat rabbit food, but you don't hear me calling you 'Easter Bunny'."

"Oooooooooh!"

She laughed and smirked at her pouting friend, tossing an arm around the other woman. "That's what you get. Now, hush and go get yourself a plate. I could hear your stomach rumbling all the way from my room," she joked.

The others stood and left to bring back some food for themselves while she sat pensively and ate in silence. She needed that moment of peace, honestly.

When everyone returned, she put on the happy face and continued the usual behavior.

"So where's this dance school? Mind if we join you?" Timothy mumbled through a mouth full of over-easy eggs.

She laughed. "Hell no. This is just to see if they'll even allow me to apply. Possibly do a little performance as an audition. This is by no means a planned trip to check out my new office."

Alvin nodded slowly, chewing on a piece of bacon thoughtfully before asking, "Is it hard to get a job as a dance teacher? You'd think with your extensive experience, people would be thrilled to have you instruct them."

Sanjeevani hummed over her cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal. "Well, it's not like people know me here. I'm not exactly a household name in this dimension. So I gotta work my way up and try to avoid telling people my interdimensional secret. But then again, people are nosy and may find out through other means, so I'll just have to see what happens and leave it all to Fate."

"Preach, sister," Jacques agreed emphatically, pumping a fist up into the air. "Life is hard, and we're all lost. Whatever happens, happens."

She giggled and nodded. "For sure."

Helen rolled her eyes. "You guys are crazy."

* * *

After a high-energy breakfast, the newest member of the nine hurried out of the building, bidding her friends goodbye before beginning the journey to the dance school she found. Yeah, this wasn't her original plan, but nothing's perfect. There's always something to improve on.

Sanjeevani strolled happily down the sidewalk, making sure to mentally practice some of the little French she knew so she wouldn't encounter any crises during the walk to the dance school. She smiled and waved to a few kids who noticed her and waved hello. Damn, she missed her little brother. Her smile dimmed as her journey resumed after the brief reprieve. But she couldn't have him here with her. She could barely survive at the moment. She would probably suffer from extreme stress if he were with her. And frankly, there was no way to bring him here. She didn't even know how Strange found her.

She hummed a happy little tune to distract herself from the heartache and looked around, admiring the beautiful springtime flora in full bloom around her. Flowering trees lining the roads, bushes of roses blanketing the parks, even petals flying through the air and brushing past her cheeks.

_Thump!_

The young woman grunted when she made impact with something, or rather, someone. She yelped upon crashing to the floor, a heavy mass landing on top of her. "Hey! What's your deal?! _Arrête ça!_ "

Her eyes flew up towards the source of the weight, first glaring with frustration before softening with confusion and fear.

A young man around her age lay on top of her, almost unconscious. Short platinum hair waving lightly in the wind, silver eyes fluttering closed, pale skin red all over from severe sunburns and other injuries. He looked like if Jack Frost put on gray-colored contact lenses. But that was beside the point.

This man should have died. She knew so just based on the severity of his head trauma and low blood pressure. In fact, she realized with horror, he was dying at that very moment.

With a rush of hyper-concentrated adrenaline, she pushed the man off, lifted him up into her arms, and sprinted away at top-speed to the most secluded place she could find, which ended up being an abandoned school near the outskirts of downtown Paris.

She gently laid him down on a patch of soft grass with a hand under his head to cushion his gentle drop onto the ground. The young man's eyes fluttered again before closing completely, his breaths growing more shallow with each passing minute. "Hey, buddy! Wake up! Are you okay?!" Sanjeevani asked in a panic. After two minutes of silence from the man, she stood and looked around, trying to check for any onlookers. Upon seeing no one, she placed one hand on the youth's face and the other into her backpack to pull out a black scarf. She laid it in multiple layers on top of her hand so the glow wouldn't draw any attention before tucking the other hand under the opaque fabric.

With an intake of air and a slow sigh, Sanjeevani closed her eyes and focused on the inner light again, this time pulling it forward out of her heart rather than up and out of her body like usual. She took a few shaky breaths and tried to press the light into his body and fix the damage done to his skin, brain, and heart. She scanned over his internals one more time to check that she addressed all issues, and then pulled her hands away.

The wind blew hard in her face and made her hair almost fly out of its loose, wet braid. In response to the rush of the breeze over his hair, the young man sat up quickly, coughing and gasping for air. When he noticed her, he fell backwards, scrambling to avoid her.

Sanjeevani smiled warmly and held her hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. It's alright, buddy. Slow. It's okay. You're safe. Don't worry."

In a heavy accent, possibly German or Swedish in origin, the man snarled at her, steely silver irises almost indistinguishable from the whites of his eyes. He gazed down at his body and rubbed at his face and chest, as if feeling for any wounds, before whipping his head back up to glare at her. "Who are you, and what did you do to me?!"

Her lips pulled back into a nervous frown, and she tried her hardest to respond without stuttering. "Oh, um, you actually crashed into me a few minutes ago. I thought you just didn't watch where you were going and bumped into me. But then, I saw you were almost unconscious and brought you here. I'm really good at first aid, so I helped you out."

His eyes narrowed, and without a pause, he turned and pulled off his cottony blue T-shirt, reaching both hands back to touch his shoulders and neck. He spun around again and glowered at the young heroine-to-be. " _Is that so?_ I didn't know first aid could heal sunburns without supernatural intervention within minutes." Sanjeevani was almost too distracted by his muscular physique and terrifying scars to reply to him.

She flushed red through her dark cocoa skin and bit her lip, unable to peel her eyes away from his broad shoulders and angular collarbones. "Well, uh, the thing is…"

She yelped when the young man rushed forward and grabbed her wrist, her dark eyes now wide with terror. This was a twist she had _not_ anticipated. He growled lowly, lips pulled back in a dangerous sneer, "Who are you, and what did you do to me? The truth this time."

"Okay, okay, okay. Slow down. Calm down. I'll tell you everything. But first, you have to let go and promise me you won't get mad or tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she declared as confidently as she could through her petrified shivering. She really hoped he couldn't see how scared she felt, even though that was unlikely.

With a raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head, the young man released her and sat across from her with his legs crossed, bearing an expression like that of a puppy watching a human do something stupid. "Very well."

Sighing, she pulled her hands away and made sure to put the scarf back in her backpack and toss the whole bag over her shoulders before responding. "Okay. My name is Sanjeevani Rao. I'm nineteen years old. I've learned classical Indian dance forms since I was four years old. I recently learned that I have healing powers, and I used those to help you because I saw you had a lot of sunburns and head trauma and heart issues."

The young man hummed and looked at her carefully before taking the time to pronounce her name and gauge how it felt in his mouth. " _Sanjeevani_ ," he mused. "A peculiar name. It's from the Hindu epic called the Ramayana, right?"

Her eyes widened. Not many people knew the religious significance of her name, but this man clearly did. Who even was he? "Uh, yeah. That's right. It's the plant that the rishi used to save Laxman when he'd been struck down in battle. It can bring people back to life."

He chuckled lowly, a stark contrast to the frightening individual she'd witnessed grabbing her wrist and glaring at her a moment ago. "Is it rude to ask if you gave yourself that name after learning of your powers?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not rude to ask, but it's definitely not true. I was given that name by my parents. They didn't know I had these powers until a few weeks ago. It was a lot of drama that I don't want to talk about." The two said nothing for a few moments until it was too much for the young woman. "Okay, can you please put your shirt back on? This is getting really uncomfortable," she begged.

With a laugh, the man pulled his T-shirt over his head, nodding and apologizing profusely for his actions of the last few minutes. "I'm truly very sorry for that, though. I was just in a panic. I don't know who to trust or not trust."

Sanjeevani sighed. "Yeah, well…I understand that on a personal level. Would you like some water? I'm sure you're dehydrated. Also, what's your name?"

He frowned, scratching the back of his head. "Yes, please. I haven't eaten properly or had enough water in a while. And I know you told me your real name, but…I don't know if it's in my best interest to tell you my real name, sorry."

"Well, that's not fair," she grumbled while retrieving a water bottle from her backpack and handing it to him. "Truth for truth, man. Come on."

With a groan, the young man nodded and finished off the water before responding. "Fine. Fine. Alright. Seeing you pout makes me feel guilty," he admitted. With a victorious grin and a childish giggle, Sanjeevani watched his face carefully. He huffed. "So impatient." Rolling his eyes, he held a strong hand out to her. "Hello, Sanjeevani. My name's Havardr. Nice to meet you."

She beamed, shaking his hand in earnest. "Nice to meet you too, Havardr. What does your name mean?"

He laughed and gently retracted his palm from her grasp. "It means 'high guard'. Like great protector or guardian."

"Whoaaaa! That's so cool! I guess we both have funky names, huh?" she wondered aloud. He grinned.

"I suppose we do. But funky is a weird word. I don't like it."

She giggled. "What about it is so bad?"

He scrunched his nose and rubbed it, then reaching down to pull on the hem of his T-shirt and rake a fingernail on the inside stitches repeatedly. "Just feels weird in my mouth." Havardr paused and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "So what's a girl like you doing wandering around alone?"

"Fair enough." She could understand that. She definitely hated a few random words herself. Zesty was one of them. Oh, and masquerading. Those two were really weird to her. "Hmm? Oh, I'm off to get a job as an instructor at a classical dance school in the city." Sanjeevani bit her lip when she realized how far away from the center of Paris she was. "But, I think I've strayed too far from the inner city. I've got my phone and GPS, but I don't know this area."

Her funky name buddy rubbed his face with both hands before pulling his fingers through his hair and asking awkwardly, "Would you like me to walk you to the school? I'm not really doing anything else today, and I definitely would not want to let a young woman walk all alone where so many weirdos hang out. Of course, you don't have to say yes. Just an offer."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I barely know you. What if you _are_ one of the weirdos?"

Havardr pursed both lips and looked away, scratching at the skin on the inside of his wrist. His eyebrows scrunched together as heavenly eyes like the first storm clouds narrowed their focus onto the ground. "Oh…" came his quiet murmur. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"

Sanjeevani grinned, punching his arm playfully. "I'm kidding, man." Havardr peeked up to gaze at her again. She hummed, nodding in agreement with herself. "You seem like a really nice guy, albeit a little confused. I'd love the escort there. To be honest, I'm a huge scaredy-cat, but I put on a brave face just so I don't get hurt," she admitted. When he returned his eyes to her, she smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Just a defense mechanism. Learned it from school. Kids are mean when you look different from them." Elementary school was rough because of her looks. Middle school was rough because of her knowledge (or lack thereof). High school was rough because of her parents. College was rough because of her own lack of sufficient preparation from high school. It was a huge improvement in terms of her home situation, but not by much.

Havardr stood excitedly and reached a hand out to her, bright smile almost blinding her. Sanjeevani could feel her heart melt at the sight of him bouncing on the balls of his feet from hopeful anticipation. She'd never met anyone so thrilled to merely take a walk with her. "Well, I'd say you don't need to be afraid around me, but I think I already spooked you earlier. Sorry," Havardr resigned. She laughed when taking his hand and letting him pull her up.

"Yeah, that chance is gone. But I understand you were just scared. Shall we?"

He nodded. "Of course." He held an elbow out like Ahmed always did, and she couldn't help but giggle while taking it.

"My best friend does this for me all the time. He's just like you. A real gentleman."

A single black eyebrow raised. "A gentleman."

Sanjeevani sighed. "Okay, well, maybe a bit more of a gentleman than you were these past ten minutes, but you're not that bad."

He smirked. "Why thank you, miss. I appreciate it."

She covered her mouth with her one hand while laughing. "Oh, you are very welcome, good sir. Tell me, from where dost thou hail?"

Havardr closed up in seconds, free hand shoved into his jeans pocket and eyes avoiding hers. "A place that was cruel to me. And I am _never_ going back." Bitterness tainted the smooth flow of his words, tears rising to his lower eyelids. She could empathize with that reaction.

Clearly, a sensitive topic. Sanjeevani walked a little closer and gently squeezed the part of his arm just above his elbow with both hands. "So you're a runaway? Me too."

His eyes shot wide open, and he turned to her quickly. "You? But…"

She smiled. "But what?"

"But…you're so…" He floundered for a moment or two.

"I'm so…?" she prompted.

"You're so homely and comforting and grounded in reality and self-assured. A people person. You don't seem like the type to run away from home."

Sanjeevani nodded, eyes trained on the horizon as they walked arm-in-arm. "Yeah. I know. Just like you, I came from a place that hurt me. And I'm also never going back. Not that I can or would want to."

Her new friend observed her in silence. "Well, it looks like we have more in common than we realize."

She smiled softly. "Indeed. Uh, I know you mentioned you're on the run and really hungry, but I live in this asylum-seeker shelter in the city, and they always have a lot of food to go around. They keep every food item that remains, and then they cook some more at night. They give all that food to the homeless folks. Would you like to come with me there so you can get a hot meal for the night, if not a place to stay?"

Havardr squeezed her hand gently and shook his head, smiling. "Can't. That's just not my place to be, Sanjeevani. But thank you for the offer. Incredibly kind of you."

Her face flushed a light pink, invisible under her skin, and she laughed sheepishly. "Well, ya know. Costs nothing to be kind." This was dangerous business, talking to this man. Not because of who he was, but because he had such an incredible effect on her already. What kind of insane person gets a crush on someone within ten minutes of first speaking to them?!

He chuckled. "Indeed."

"Hey, that's my word!" she protested.

He laughed harder, and the two continued on their way.

* * *

Upon reaching the short building to which Swarnanatyam Dance Academy belonged, Havardr stopped and looked at his companion with wide but sad eyes. "So uh, I guess this is goodbye?"

Sanjeevani gaped, looking up at the man. "Wait, you're leaving already?" She really did not want to leave him just yet. The conversations about their lives that they'd had during the walk were some of the most fun ones in her life. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so hard. And she certainly couldn't remember ever being so excited to hear about a stranger's life before.

He sighed. "I know it was fun, but you have to go handle this dance thing, and I…well, I can't stick around people too long. Everyone who hangs around me too much gets hurt. Badly."

"Okay, I've walked with you for a half-hour, and I'm perfectly safe and unharmed. I probably should credit you with that. Besides, don't you wanna see me dance?!" She might have asked this just a bit too loudly out of excitement. She made the poutiest, most pleading look she could manage until her face hurt.

Okay, yeah. She refused to let her friends join her, but this guy was new and interesting and _charming_. And he showed so much interest in her and her culture! It would be a shame to not share it with him in person.

Havardr groaned, putting his face in both hands. "I've known you for a maximum of forty minutes, and yet I am already so weak against your requests. This is atrocious unfairness."

The young dancer beamed. "So is that a yes or a no?" She expected she knew his answer.

With another groan and a huff, Sanjeevani's newest friend nodded. "Fine. Whatever. Let's go. Not like I could leave you just yet either, jerk." Giggling childishly, the young woman pulled him through the door and to the front desk, where she asked to speak with someone about getting hired for a teacher position.

The receptionist smiled and pointed her to the lobby, pin-straight hair shifting fluidly in her bob as she turned her head. "Wait there, _s'il vous plait_. The leading instructor will meet with you shortly." The mid-twenties woman's nasally French and heavily-accented English rang in the duo's ears.

Sanjeevani gave a sweet grin and nodded. "Yes, ma'am! _Merci beaucoup!_ " She could feel the intense green eyes of the woman digging into her back as she approached the lobby with Havardr at her side. She looked around at the Indian modernist decor and fancy furniture. She didn't expect a prestigious Indian classical dance school to look like this. She expected a lot more religious idols and traditional decorations, but clearly, the head instructor or owner preferred to mix the new with the old, creating an almost futuristic Indian home of dance and arts.

Havardr's eyes rarely wandered from her face the whole time they waited. "You're uncomfortable."

She sighed. "Am I that transparent?"

He shrugged and gave a wan smile. "Mm. No. I'm just good at reading people. Survival skills. I'm sure you're the same."

"Not as good as you'd expect, but I can manage. And if I can't, I can run away fast enough to get out of danger."

He laughed at her reply.

He did believe that. But he didn't believe she was okay. "What about this makes you uncomfortable?"

She'd hoped he would drop the issue, but clearly not. Frankly, she didn't know what felt so off-putting. She shrugged in response. He sighed and moved a little closer, whispering softly to her, "Well, if you want, we can listen to some music together. It always calms me down. Not sure what kind of music you like, but I have a lot of different genres."

An eyebrow raised in shock, Sanjeevani nodded slowly, watching her companion pull an iPod and a set of wired earbuds out of his pockets. He plugged them in and handed the right-side earbud to her, being seated to his left. "Here."

Waiting for him to choose a song, she took her time to put in the earbud and adjust it. With a soft sigh, she hunkered down in the chair and crossed both arms over her chest, her bag a steadying weight in her lap. Havardr hummed and played a song, closing his eyes in relief when the soft melody of the flute flowed through the earbuds. Sanjeevani gaped and then grinned at the sound. She looked at her companion closely.

"You listen to Telugu music?"

Havardr peeked through his left eye and smirked. "Do I?" He huffed when she punched his shoulder. "Ouch! Okay, yes. I do. I listen to a lot of Indian music. I spent a lot of time there when I was first on the run from my family. Almost everyone welcomed me so kindly and freely." The young man sighed, rubbing his chin.

"Well. Not all the places I visited were that open to having me around, considering their fairly harsh history with white people, but I just kept moving and didn't bother anyone."

Sanjeevani beamed. "Do you speak the languages of the places you visited?"

He had to think about it for a second. "Kind of. I picked up what I heard the most, so a lot of my knowledge of those languages is based on what's used the most. I can't have really deep conversations or anything, but I can manage with small-talk."

"Cool! Do you wanna-"

"Nope. Sorry." He flushed a light pink. "I'm not super comfortable with talking in a language I barely know around a native speaker." Sanjeevani sighed.

"Okayyy." She leaned her head back and peacefully sang along with the music. The two youths relaxed quietly while waiting for the call from the principal of the school.

"Miss Sanjeevani?" came an elegant, strong voice. A woman appeared before the two of them, her bronze skin and straight reddish hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights. She gazed down at them with distaste over the tip of her hooked nose, scarlet lips pursed tightly, making the mole just under the left side of her lips shift at the movement.

She crossed her arms over her pink salwar top and tapped her feet anxiously, making the anklets clink with each pat to the ground. "Well? Is that you? I'm waiting." She crossed one leg over the other, the elastic fabric of her dark blue and pink leggings stretching over the long limbs.

Sanjeevani leapt up and nodded, smiling uncomfortably. "Yes, ma'am. That's me." She gave Havardr a pleading look and returned the earbud, watching him sit up and glower at the older woman. She begged with her eyes that he not say anything and acknowledged the principal. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am."

The elder woman scoffed at her outstretched hand and turned on her heel. "Come along. Let's see if you really deserve to be here at all."

Biting her lip and wringing her hands, the young dancer followed her prospective boss and smiled back at Havardr, who'd begun scraping the nail of his right pointer finger along the inner stitches of his shirt again.

He grunted and watched her leave. He looked down at the iPod in his lap and rubbed his face with one hand. Already, Havardr was ready to leave. He hated getting attached. This was too much too fast. Sure, this girl was sweet and would understand if he had to leave, but he didn't trust himself to stick around and keep his distance. Besides, he knew she would be crushed if he left without another word after promising to watch her dance.

He closed his eyes and listened to his songs with one earbud in again. The past eighteen months flashed through his head.

His family. The people he trusted to love and care for him. They had used him. Since he was a baby, they forced him into their plans and toyed with his desires for a peaceful, happy future.

Music called to him. Hearing the bards play their hearts out at the coronation of Prince Thor during Havardr's youth and watching the singers of Queen Frigga's entourage during the women's festivals always brought him such joy and sheer awe. He decided as a 250-year-old student of the Academy for Asgardian Nobleman that he would become a musician upon entering adulthood.

Of course, having only the mind of a human five-year-old meant he couldn't think ahead.

No matter how much he hoped as a child, his dreams wouldn't have come true.

Havardr ground his teeth together, trying to keep the fear and anxiety at bay. He couldn't let it peek out again. If he did, who knows what these people would do?

Despite his brave, strong name, he didn't have any such desires. He didn't want to be a guard. He didn't want to be a savior or protector. He wanted to be an artist. He wanted to sing and paint and draw and teach his fellow Asgardians about the art forms of Earth and other planets.

And because of this, the other boys mocked him. Well, for a myriad of reasons, but this was the primary cause for their cruelty. Warriors and soldiers are praised. Their efforts are immortalized in the myths and stories of each family and of the whole kingdom. But artists and musicians? Their histories live and die as moving clouds in the sky. They come and go without permanence.

His family trained him to fight constantly. He was made to be a soldier, a killer. Not a lover. Not a singer or musician. They taught him to hate living things at the human age of four. They taught him to hold a sword at the human age of six. They taught him to beat down his fellow students in their fighting classes at the human age of nine. They taught him to hunt creatures for sport at the human age of twelve. They taught him to kill properly at the human age of fifteen. And now, at the human age of twenty, he was what you could call a killer machine, _against his will_.

None of them expected the annihilation of Asgard upon the return of Hela and Surtur. Their plans had been ruined. But Havardr never knew their real desire, their real plot. Had Asgard not been destroyed and the people not murdered in the thousands, Havardr's family would have had him kill the crown princes and their parents. A royal coup. A murder plot. They wanted so badly to rule that they would have had him commit regicide. He knew they wouldn't have let him refuse or stand against it. They would have managed somehow, forced him down that path one way or another.

His mother, his father, his two uncles and aunts, even his elder cousins and baby siblings. There was no end to their hatred, their spite, their unkindness.

The only one who stood against their cruelty and guided him into a life of kindness and mercy was his younger sister, Gyda. She made sure he knew his actions were wrong at every turn his family forced on him. Naturally, it hurt him at first, but he soon realized the value of her help and let her become his moral compass.

She didn't treat him with disrespect or unkindness for any aspect of him. His sexuality, his gender, his nature, his desires for the future. She appreciated every part of him. Among his family members, only she accepted him for who he was at the core.

His sexuality wasn't a big issue with the other boys. Human sexual behavior required so many more labels than were necessary for Asgard, which thought such interactions were the business of the individual themselves and no one else. But his family didn't believe the same. And they certainly took as much issue with his love for men and women as they took with the fact that he sometimes just preferred wearing feminine clothes some days. He knew humans were a bit more understanding, but he didn't trust them.

He didn't know if he trusted Sanjeevani either. She was kind, but in what world would she understand him if she grew up in such a conservative home?

The man of a thousand years sighed and shook his head to push away the thoughts.

He mused to himself about his own mind. He knew he thought differently, too. He couldn't explain it, but something always felt different to him. Something about the way people reacted to certain things he said made him feel great discomfort, as if he was thinking the wrong way and everyone except him knew why.

Havardr could tell based on people's expressions at some of his statements that they thought him weird or odd or dumb. It hurt, certainly, but these reactions became more obvious to him when he began hunting with other boys. They would give him a certain kind of look and go back to the conversation after a pause.

After seeing that happen multiple times, the guard-to-be started keeping track of his words and statements and tried his best to seem completely normal and to think like the others, though he couldn't figure out what he was missing. It just felt off, but it felt like himself. He knew that made no sense, but he didn't know how else to put it.

A pause. A heartbeat. Someone was calling for him.

His head shot up in response, and he grinned. Sanjeevani, decked out in her casual dance wear, a similar style of dress to the principal. Dark green salwar top and golden yellow leggings. And her black scarf tied in an odd way: first hung over her right shoulder and pulled diagonally to her left hip to make a sash over her chest and then twisted once and pulled to her right hip and tied down with a double-knot. He didn't get it, but it was cool.

She beamed and held her hand out. "Come on! Ms. Saraswathi gave you permission to watch." Havardr grinned wider, tucking the iPod and headphones in his pocket. He rushed forward and took her hand, letting the excited young woman pull him along behind her.

"Was she nice to you? She seems kind of mean," he commented quietly.

Sanjeevani didn't respond right away, instead remaining silent for a moment or two. "Well, I guess that's just how she is. I think she's just nicer once you get to know her," she admitted.

Havardr didn't like that answer, but he simply nodded and hummed. Not like he would make her more upset by continuing to comment. He didn't want to hurt her chances of getting the job.

The young lady pulled him down a few hallways and into a large rectangular dance studio with a long mirror on one of the long walls of the room, wooden floors that gleamed under the LED lights of the ceiling, and a small seating area opposite the mirror at the other end of the room. The door creaked at their entrance.

Saraswathi stood in front of the mirror, crossing her arms and checking her nails while three other women of similar age and appearance sat behind a table to the right of the door, like judges at a competition. She soon took a seat at the middle of the table and motioned for Sanjeevani to stand before them, her back to the mirror. Havardr stood at one short wall of the studio. He looked at his companion, who gave him that pearly-white grin and nodded confidently.

The women began asking her some questions out of nowhere that seemed unrelated to the job, and Sanjeevani's composure broke.

"Where were you born?" an older woman with silver hair in a bun and a yellow and blue salwar suit asked.

"Oh, um." The girl's eyes widened. She hadn't anticipated these questions. "Atlanta, Georgia."

"Hmm. Not from the mainland, then," the woman commented to her fellow teachers. The prospective instructor's face reddened. A different woman wondered what states Sanjeevani's parents hailed from.

"Tamilnadu and Andhra Pradesh," she replied hesitantly. She knew where this list of questions was headed.

The woman, raking her tanned fingers through chocolate brown hair, huffed and mumbled as she noted it down, shifting in her red and yellow saree. "Mixing cultures like that. No wonder she looks like she does." Havardr's blood began to boil. He knew what was going on.

The last woman, the youngest of the group and seemingly the sweetest, with her gentle smile and soft brown eyes, wondered as she pulled her hair free of its bun and adjusted her pink and white salwar top, "So what caste do you and your parents belong to?" Havardr only then saw the ice in her smile, the cruelty in her eyes.

Sanjeevani flushed a deep red. She hated this question. Always. She _hated_ it. "Our last name is Rao." Her head hung low, and she tried to not let the shame and embarrassment wash over her and drown her mind. The next statement from the principal caused the shame, not her last name or caste in and of themselves. She'd heard that statement so many times.

The Principal chuckled. "A Rao with that skin tone? Surprising. Oh well. Considering you're part Tamil, I suppose it's to be expected." She hummed, and the shame drowned Sanjeevani. Okay. She would need the rest of the week to recuperate. Maybe she could spend it with Havardr. He was nice enough. "Very well. You may begin. One dance of your choice, and one of our choice. You will have to compose as you dance."

"Okay. Which one is first?" the young woman asked weakly.

Saraswathi sighed. "Well, seeing how embarrassed you are for no reason, you can do the prepared dance first."

With a sigh of relief and a shiver, Sanjeevani handed her phone to the youngest teacher and stepped back into position, watching her new friend with helpless eyes. He tried to comfort her to the best of his ability with just his face, but he didn't think it worked. She simply waited for the music to start while watching him.

With a flourish, she began, jumping right into the movements with more vigor than he ever thought she had. Thundering footsteps, the flowing of her arms and solid changing positions of her hands, oh she was a storm. She danced like fire, and it took all of Havardr's self-control to not let his mouth hang open while he watched her lose herself to the music. She ended the song with an enamored smile towards him and with her hands pointed his direction. If you asked, he couldn't tell you what the song was about or the specific dance moves made during the performance, but he would never forget that smile she gave him.

The older women at the table clapped, chuckling and smiling while Saraswathi and the other younger teacher huffed and crossed their arms. Sanjeevani blushed and pressed her hands together, bowing in respect.

After taking down some more notes, Saraswathi and the other teachers played a random song of their choice while Sanjeevani performed the dance without preparation. Kind of like a cappella but for dancing. This song seemed difficult. So many rhythm changes and fluctuations in the lyrics and tune. Hell, the song had so many keys from the beginning to the end, and none of them made any sense with one another, but Sanjeevani still thumped away at the ground, the intensity of her motions and the strength and clarity of her eyes and expressions leaving him slightly breathless. He'd never seen a dancer move like her. He spent almost nine months in India, and none of the classical dancers he watched ever moved like she did that day.

At the end of the song, Sanjeevani stood with her arms outstretched towards the heavens, as if pleading with God to have mercy and help her get the job.

The other dance teachers sent the two youths out of the room so they could deliberate and make the decision without Sanjeevani overhearing. The two waited outside, leaning on the wall across from the door.

* * *

The silence choked them.

He needed to say it. "You weren't kidding about the fifteen years of dance experience, were you?"

She laughed tiredly. "Why would I?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. First impressions?"

She laughed again, brighter and more amused this time. "I don't lie for first impressions. That's what door-to-door salesmen do."

"Ouch!" he joked. "What did they ever do to you?"

Her face turned to stone suddenly, her eyes as dim and lifeless as a Furby's soul. "They killed my puppy, Snoodles."

His face slacked. "Oh. Um. That's crazy."

A grin cracked through the facade, and she tossed her head back to laugh. "I was totally kidding. I have no issue with them. But they don't actually care about your struggles. They're just trying to get in their quota and make their commission. That's why I said that their first impressions are lies."

Havardr sighed, resting a hand over his chest. "You scared me for a second there. Also. Snoodles?"

She shrugged. "I just like the word. Snoodle is very funny and kinda cute. Like a snake name. Snoodle. I would totally name a pet snake that."

He winced. "A pet snake?"

"Sure! Why not? They're cool!"

"No thanks. Next, you're gonna say that spiders are your best friends or something equally terrifying."

She pouted. "But some of them are so cute!"

Havardr gave her a look. "I will never hang out with you again if you bring along a scary pet like that."

"Dogs okay?"

"No. Only cats. Dogs are too loud and boisterous."

"But cats don't even like going outside."

He smirked. "Well, that's too bad." He grunted when she poked his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Meanie." An awkward pause. "Do you…"

"Hm?"

Sanjeevani tilted her head up and looked into her new friend's eyes. He almost wanted to turn away. She always ended up staring right into his soul, to his slight discomfort. "Do you think I'll get the job, Havardr?"

The young man sighed. He raised an eyebrow in question, holding an arm up. She nodded and moved forward so he could wrap it around her shoulders. She stood a bit closer and rested against his side. "I don't know. I really don't. Personally, I think you were phenomenal. I've never seen any human dance like that. No normal person can. You're something special. But it takes someone special to be able to see that," he admitted with a sad smile.

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "Was that a compliment or a humble-brag?"

"Both?"

The two looked at one another and burst into giggles, only to shut up in nervousness when the youngest teacher opened the door and called them back in.

Sanjeevani bit her lip, rubbing her wrists as the other teachers spoke to one another secretly. They finally stopped at the principal holding one hand up and grunting to signal their silence. She smiled with fake sympathy, something Havardr knew Sanjeevani hadn't picked up, based on her hopeful and innocent expression.

"My dear, that was a wonderful performance you gave us. You have all the makings of a Swarnanatyam dance instructor. Confidence, intelligence, creativity, technical ability, humility, gentleness, respect. You have all of those."

The girl beamed. This was the moment. The beginning of her new life in France. Everything was coming together. Havardr clenched his hands in his hoodie pockets. He knew what was coming. He'd experienced the same thing many times as a child. The calm before the storm. Unbeknownst to him, Sanjeevani had experienced this too, but she had more hope at the moment. She just wanted everything to work out.

Saraswathi sighed, trying to emanate as much regret and sadness as possible. "Unfortunately, Swarnanatyam Dance Academy is a very prestigious institution that prefers its dancers to come from and know one style of dance in particular. Your knowledge of three or more styles may prove detrimental to your students, and we must be consistent. We cannot mix the various schools of Indian classical dance together. You have talent, I agree. But that talent comes from many sources, and we need one so that you don't confuse the students by meshing the three styles together. Not to mention, you come from a family of mixed cultures, which may be a point of contention with some of our more conservative parents and students. And we do formal performances all over Paris. We need a certain uniform look about us, and as you see, in a dance recital, you might stick out like a sore thumb, as per the saying, and that is the last of the three issues why we must reject your application. I am so sorry, my dear."

Sanjeevani bit down on her lip and tried to keep the tears away. She smiled weakly. "Thank you all for the opportunity. I truly appreciate it." She said nothing else, collecting her belongings and trudging out of the room. Her dreams were crushed, and they hadn't even had a chance to come out of her head.

Havardr glowered at the women as soon as the door swung shut behind the young lady. "Those were lies. All of them. Knowing three kinds of dance means she's better than you, especially since you know she can keep them distinct. She is competition for you guys, and you can't handle that. The mixed culture has nothing to do with anything. It's just you four with your prejudices. And her skin is just the issue because of your bullshit. Preference for fairer people and stuff. You're just too heartless to say it to her face, so you'd rather lie and make it seem as if you like her when you hated her from the start."

Saraswathi rolled her eyes at him. "Do I need to call security to get you out of here?"

He growled and stomped out, following the crying woman. He spotted her from the slump in her posture and the drag of her gait. Oh, she was shattered.

Havardr rushed forward and took her hand, sighing when she squeezed with all her might and let a choked sob slip free from her lips. "Sanjeevani, you know that's just one academy. There are plenty more in the city. It's no big deal. You can keep looking." She said nothing, just kept crying. "They didn't deserve you anyway. They're just too dumb to realize your talent. They're not worth your-"

"I know why they refused me. They were lying just now."

He stopped. How was he supposed to react to that?

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her left fist. "It happens to me a lot. Mixed culture family, dark skin, too skinny, too fat, too ugly, too pretty, too nice, too mean. I've heard all the excuses. I'm used to it. I hoped they'd be nice about it. These guys aren't a great school either. They're lower-level. But all Indian dance schools have some kind of connection because Indians live in a collectivist culture no matter their religion, especially here in Europe, where everything and everyone is closer together. If the lower-level school rejected me, what higher-level school would accept me?"

He really had no clue how to respond now. How do you reassure someone that their dreams aren't crushed and that they just have to keep trying when their dreams have been getting crushed from a young age?

"Can't you create your own school?"

"With what money? I'm poor. Broke, actually. No job. No sustenance. Nothing."

He sighed and pulled her into his side again, coiling an arm about her. He figured she just needed the company. He wasn't super great with his words when it came to soothing tears. He could empathize with her heartache, but he couldn't figure out a way to make her feel better with words or truly understand her tears. Yeah, she was hurt from everything that had just happened, but there was still hope. She could still win at this in her life. He didn't know what else to say. She sniffed and leaned into him again, tucking her hands into her own jacket pockets.

Havardr gave a soft smile, tilting her head up by her pointed chin. "How about we get you some hot chocolate and a nice book? I'll read it aloud to you, if you want. I can read in a lot of languages. I think we need a reprieve from our struggles."

She returned the look with a shy grin of her own and nodded, shoulders pulled up to shield her neck against the wind. "Throw in some garlic bread and pizza for lunch, and you've got a deal."

He chuckled and nodded, keeping her close as she searched up the location of the nearest Italian restaurant on her phone. "Hope you've at least got money for food. I spent the last I had on getting a meal for myself and a homeless man last night," he muttered.

Sanjeevani giggled. "Who even _are_ you?"

"Anyone you want, dummy. Hurry up. My stomach might just digest itself any moment, and if this continues, my death will be on your hands. My ghost will go find the police and tell them of your heartlessness, you monster." He froze in his head. Too much. Too much too much too much. That joke was too far. He awaited her impending stare of horror and confusion, but frowned at the sound of her laughter.

Okay, so that was unexpected. Most people didn't laugh at that. They often gave him a look like he just told them he ate spiders for breakfast or something. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll feed you. Honestly, you sound like my younger brother. The kid always made me get him food, whether or not he was hungry. Guess that's why he got so chubby after he learned how to speak."

Havardr snorted. "This kid knows exactly what is up," he joked. She smirked.

"Are you on his side or mine? _I'm_ your friend, you know. Not him."

"I didn't know we were friends," he spoke frankly. She stared at him.

"What?" Sanjeevani couldn't figure out whether she should have felt a little heartache at that. Sure, they only met a few hours ago, but she thought they'd really bonded. Were they not friends? "Of course we are."

Havardr watched her with wide eyes. "Really?" His face split into a big smile of relief. "Great! Sorry, I'm not used to making friends this quickly. People usually need a long time to get used to me and like me. This is just kind of a surprise."

"That's just sad. Why wouldn't people like you? You're great!"

He shrugged. "I don't know. People usually think I'm really weird. I don't know why. They just kind of give me weird looks and act like I'm insane when I say stuff. I don't ever know what I did wrong, so I have a hard time figuring out what to do or say when I want to make a new friend. I guess it's easier with you because I didn't intend to be your friend. But that doesn't make any sense at all."

Sanjeevani hummed. "Well, I'm glad you and I are friends. You're really nice, and having you around makes that rejection easier to handle."

"Thanks. Not something I hear often, but it's good that you think that. But Sanjeevani…"

She peeked up at him with those big brown eyes.

His heart kinda clenched when he said his next words. "I'll have to leave you after this, I-"

Her face hardened, and she shook her head, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist. "Nuh-uh. No way. You don't get to leave me. I won't let you. You're the first person I've trusted with my real name and details without fearing for my safety and well-being. You're the first person I've told about most of my struggles. You don't get to leave me just yet. In fact, I don't want you to leave me ever, but not so soon after you've learned my secrets. I wanna know yours too. Only then, you can leave."

He grunted. "Clever girl."

"Yep. I know."

Havardr rolled his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Fine. Until we know equal numbers of secrets about one another."

She clearly didn't want that, but she agreed. "Deal."

* * *

If Havardr had to choose his least favorite form of public transport created by humanity, he would choose the bus. Filthy, all kinds of strange people, shitty men laying their hands all over the women, rude people yelling at innocent passengers and the bus driver, and the horrid obligation of having to stand and bear all the disturbing smells all around him. Sanjeevani managed it like it was a breeze. She didn't bat an eye even when a man wearing nothing but a sewage-smelling long brown overcoat - _and nothing else_ \- sat down while eating a banana from the bottom with the peel on, carrying random sexual devices in his pockets.

That was impressive. Even more impressive was that she gave her seat up for the man and smiled at him in hello. He smiled back, teeth rotted and brown. He raked his fingers through the few strands of hair left on his mostly bald head and turned to look out the window. Sanjeevani raised an eyebrow at her new buddy, who shook his head and smiled.

While waiting for the bus to continue its journey after having stopped to let some passengers off, both youths' eyes landed on a horrifying sight. A man maybe twice their age stood a few feet away from them, his suit implying intelligence and professionalism but his behavior implying the opposite. He had his pasty white hands all over a young girl, possibly a secondary school student with dark cocoa skin and the prettiest black curls either of them had ever seen. So basically, this creepy middle-aged man was feeling up a kid.

Havardr had turned his head to look at Sanjeevani and ask what to do with his eyes, but he blanched when he didn't see her there beside him. He turned forward and grinned. The young adult woman had already strode forward and grabbed the wrist of the man's hand that had physical contact with the girl and was forcing it away.

He glared at her, only for the anger to morph into pain when she held on tighter, twisting it in a direction it shouldn't go. Since she first grabbed his wrist, Sanjeevani's eyes hadn't moved from his face, calmly staring at him. He groaned and winced and shouted, trying to pull at her fingers with his free hand, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. When she didn't release him and continued twisting, he began kneeling to try and pull away. She still didn't let go.

And then she went off on him in English. "You're a businessman. You have experience with interacting with people in power and people without power. Your superiors and subordinates, respectively. You wouldn't treat any woman from either group like this to avoid a lawsuit. But you'd touch a little kid like this? Give me one reason, just one reason, why I shouldn't break your hand right here, right now."

He gazed up at Sanjeevani in terror while the little girl gazed up at Sanjeevani in admiration. He whimpered weakly through a faintly British accent, "Because you might get charged here and go to jail?"

She hummed. "Yes, you might be right. But I would claim that it was all in defense of this little girl who is too afraid of adults and their authority to fight against you, and they'd let me free. Give me a better reason."

"Because I'm a human too and deserve kindness?"

She snorted at that, twisting harder. All of the other passengers of the bus had stopped what they were doing to watch the interaction. Her eyes narrowed coldly. "You didn't treat this sweet little girl with that kindness you want so badly. Bad reason. Give me a different one."

The man whimpered like a kicked puppy. "Because you're a nice wom-AH!" Sanjeevani had dug her nails into his skin. "Okay, okay, okay! Because if you let go, I'll head to the- no, run to the police station and turn myself in, no matter what my friends and family say." She smiled hatefully.

"If you just said that from the start, I would have let you go." She tutted and dropped his hand as if it were some kind of floppy toy and not the extremity connected to one of his appendages.

He scrambled to grab his briefcase and high-tail it out of the bus. While everyone clapped and cheered for her, Sanjeevani ignored the praise and looked at the girl, holding both hands up gently. "Can I touch your shoulders, my dear? Only with my hands." The girl's eyes widened, and she nodded. "Okay. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need to borrow my phone to call someone?" the older woman rattled off while gently resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.

The girl shook her head, the curls of her pigtails bouncing with each sway. "No, madame. Merci beaucoup. I appreciate it greatly," she almost sang. "I am so glad you stepped in. I am not good with saying no to adults, as you could likely tell." She gave her savior a bright, toothy smile, eyes closing from her big grin.

Sanjeevani cooed and nodded. "Yes, sweetie. I understand. If you ever feel uncomfortable, always look to a young woman near you. She will help you without question. We all know what it's like to be so afraid and frozen and lost. We've experienced frightening moments like those before. Is this your stop?"

"No, madame. The next one is my stop. But thank you for helping me." The student was absolutely adorable. Just a sweetheart. Havardr could tell from that simple conversation how much Sanjeevani loved kids and helping out younger people. Without any hesitation or question, she jumped in to go protect a random child she didn't know from a much older adult she didn't know, not at all afraid for her own safety and well-being.

"No problem at all, sugar. Have a good day!" she cheerfully exclaimed before returning to Havardr's side. "What a cutie pie!" she murmured to him.

He shrugged. "I guess. I'm impartial with kids. So long as they're nice to everyone, including me, I don't really have any particular opinion on them. But yeah, she seems sweet. Weren't you afraid to jump in? You were there helping before I could even react to what I saw."

She smiled and took his arm like their first walk to the dance school. "Buddy, that's how women are. We know danger before a man even realizes. This isn't bias or being rude. I'm being honest. We're used to having to look out for ourselves and our fellow female friends no matter where we go. We're so in fear for our safety at all times that it's drilled into our skulls. We know what danger looks like."

That was horrifying. He really couldn't believe his ears. Did human women really live their whole lives just being afraid all the time? No wonder they were so stressed and angry at men. Men were the primary cause for their stress and anger and fear. What a dreadful state to live in for an entire lifetime. His heroic companion sighed.

" _However_. Not all of us are brave enough to stand up and fight back or keep the danger away. Some of us would rather call the authorities or ask for help. Some of us would rather go and confront the people before making any decision. Some of us would rather go and whoop the person hurting another girl or a kid and ask questions later. I'm in the third group. I can't wait for the threat to go away. I can't sit silent and let people get hurt. I'd rather get in trouble later than allow harm to come to innocents."

He smiled. "That's admirable. I think that's very brave. It can be stupid, but it's very brave."

When the bus reached its next destination, the little student girl from earlier ran over and hugged Sanjeevani, dark brown eyes bright and warm with affection for the older girl. Sanjeevani hugged her back, long tanned arms coiling over the girl's school uniform: a white button-down shirt under a green sweater with some kind of emblem on the left breast pocket and a black pleated skirt and black leather shoes with white socks.

The young student ran off, waving to the bus driver after stepping onto the concrete of the sidewalk.

Havardr hummed, smirking to himself when a few of the passengers approached his friend and thanked her for her actions and wished her good luck in all her aspirations. She could only laugh and smile sheepishly, thanking them for the compliments and simply saying it wasn't necessary, that she made it her responsibility to help anyone who needed it.

He held an elbow out when the bus reached their stop. She yawned and took it, letting him lead her down the steps and onto the sidewalk. The two strolled along peacefully, Sanjeevani groaning when Havardr playfully poked at her heroism.

"Oh, hush. Protecting a kid from a pedophile isn't heroism. It's common sense. Not everyone is comfortable with public confrontation. I've done that plenty of times in high school, so I don't feel uncomfortable about it now."

"Well, maybe that just means you've got that hero vibe about you," he reasoned.

"Maybe…" She nodded pensively, thinking to herself in silence as they entered the pizza shop. Maybe he was right. Maybe she really did have that heroic sense. That determination that not enough people had. Maybe she really did have to use her powers. Spider-Man was the perfect example. The unwilling hero who grew into his role. She would do that too. Maybe not the same way. Her powers were extremely different. But she'd do what she had to. She'd save Paris.

From what? Well, she didn't know yet, but from anything, really. Maybe if she did it enough, more heroes would join her. Possibly even Ahmed!

This would be good. Oh, this would be so good.

* * *

"You did WHAT with WHOM?!"

Sanjeevani groaned. "I kinda accidentally went on a date with a guy I met four hours ago."

Ahmed watched her, his mouth agape. "How does that even HAPPEN?!"

She shrugged awkwardly, looking down at the ground beside her. "I dunno…"

Helen grinned like a shark. "Is he hot?"

The young hero-to-be smiled shyly. "Well, he's not not hot."

Olivia shoved her sister to the side, toppling the other woman to the ground. "Did he take his shirt off, and did you like what you saw?"

Sanjeevani put her face in her hands and nodded, whining pathetically in affirmation.

Olivia screamed in victory. "Did he call it a date too?"

"Uh, no. Neither of us said it outright. But it totally felt like a date to me, and I think it felt like a date to him too, maybe. Am I just desperate?"

Elizabeth huffed. "I don't know if I'd use the word desperate, but you are smitten, infatuated, with this boy."

The Indian woman rolled her eyes. "Okay, he's not a boy. He's definitely a man. His musculature does not scream teenage loser to me. He's got the body of a warrior, if that makes any sense."

Timothy grinned at that, nodding his head in approval. "Okay, so he's hot. And nice. And smart. And funny. And charming. And respects women and minorities. And knows about your culture and language. And thinks you're amazing. And has offered you an elbow twice and wrapped an arm around you several times. I say go for it. He sounds like a real catch."

Excluding Sanjeevani, the women of the group simultaneously hissed, " _Timothy!_ " To which, he threw his hands up in surrender and laughed.

He sighed and looked at Sanjeevani, moving to sit across from her as she leaned her side against Alvin's back. "Okay. What _exactly_ happened at lunch?"

She smiled. "Well…"

* * *

The two walked into the restaurant, only to be slapped across the face with the heavy aroma of cooking garlic, the spicy scent of the herbs in the different sauces, and the warm smell of baking bread and sweet cakes.

They glanced at one another and looked forward again. Sanjeevani could feel her mouth water. Oh, this was going to be her best meal yet.

A fat little Italian man with a strong accent and a stronger handshake approached them, smiling widely under his dark, curly mustache. "Buongiorno, little ones! Welcome to Tito's Pizzeria. I am Tito! What can I get for you?"

The restaurant consisted of a kitchen in the back, a counter space to square off the cooking area and designate a place for the register and baked goods, and a front area of a few square meters that had about four small circular tables with two chairs each. Clearly, the place wasn't huge. The whole restaurant could fit into a high school's smallest auditorium with room to spare.

Sanjeevani smiled brightly and giggled when the man took one of her hands and kissed her knuckles.

"Such a pretty young woman graces my pizzeria today?! Wonderful!" He winked at Havardr and elbowed him playfully. "You're one lucky young boy. What will you two have?"

Havardr blushed bright pink and laughed awkwardly. "Um, thanks. Can we have a table first?"

The man laughed boisterously and nodded, leading them inside, peeling his flour-speckled apron off of his red button-down and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. "Of course, of course. Fair enough." He settled them into a table and chairs beside the window, placing two glasses of water and a small tea light on the white cotton tablecloth.

Sanjeevani and Havardr snickered to themselves after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "A bit too fast for that, I'd say."

He snorted through his water, nodding and laughing harder along with her when the same water he drank then dribbled out of his nose unintentionally. While they lost themselves to hilarity, Tito brought out some fresh breadsticks and olive oil and balsamic vinegar for a simple starter.

Sanjeevani and Havardr slowed their giggles and calmed down fast enough to at least ask for a meal. "Cheese pizza with tomatoes, olives, peppers, and onions for me, and some garlic bread," the young woman requested with a sweet smile.

Havardr snickered quickly and nodded. "Same here. Garlic bread, but spaghetti with marinara and basil for me, please."

Tito nodded and smiled after jotting down their orders. "Of course! Anything to drink?" he shouted while walking to the kitchen.

"No, thank you," they called out in unison. They locked eyes and laughed again.

"Oh, what a trip. I went from being terrified of you to now having lunch with you. This is weird," Sanjeevani admitted with a soft smile. Her lunch partner tossed her a confused and somewhat sad look.

"Terrified?" came his baleful question.

She sighed and nodded. "I mean, you got mad when I healed you and grabbed my wrist kinda hard, and I didn't know you or the area. Of course I was terrified."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I was scared of you too. I usually feel uncomfortable when people touch me without asking, so…"

Her eyes widened. "Wait, really? I am so so so sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable these past few hours. I wish you'd told me. I would have been more careful and stuff. Sorry!"

"No, no!" He exclaimed, putting his hands up in front of him in surrender. "It's okay. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Since I initiated the contact every time, it was fine. I wasn't uncomfortable with you. It's okay. It's okay." Sanjeevani nodded at his words and sighed, rubbing her face.

"Okay. Alright, that makes sense. Good. I never want to make anyone feel weird or scared or uncomfortable. That is never my intention."

Havardr shot her a look. "The bus."

She huffed. "Doesn't count. That guy deserved it. Okay, I amend my statement. I never want to make anyone innocent and good feel weird or scared or uncomfortable. There."

He smiled and hummed, tapping the table softly while waiting for their food.

As soon as it arrived, they dug in ravenously, both viciously tearing into their garlic bread and entrées. They chewed through everything and groaned with regret and exhaustion, leaning back to get over the food babies making homes in their stomachs. "That was too much food too fast," Sanjeevani moaned helplessly. Havardr could only grunt in agreement.

Out of nowhere, Tito popped over and laid a plate of dark chocolate cake between them, smiling brightly as he placed a single scoop of vanilla and strawberry gelato beside the cake. "This is on the house. You both are so precious. I hope you enjoyed your meal."

"Without a doubt, Tito. Thank you for everything," Havardr groaned. "The food was amazing. And thank you. We appreciate it greatly."

Sanjeevani only hummed and nodded off in her chair, eyes closing slowly.

"Wake up! We have cake," Havardr huffed while poking his sleepy friend. She suddenly sat up, alert and excited at the word cake. He laughed airily. "Thought so."

The two silently enjoyed the dessert before Sanjeevani got to her feet and approached the counter, handing her new favorite chef in all of Paris enough cash to pay for the meal, with double tip. Tito tried to refuse, but she smiled and shook her head. "A gift from us to you. Thank you, Tito. The meal was delicious. I'll definitely tell my friends about your restaurant." The man thanked them both as they strolled out and made their way down the sidewalk.

"So."

Havardr smiled. "So."

"Where are you headed now? Do you live in a hotel or apartment here?"

The man nodded. "I live with an acquaintance of mine. He needs someone to watch his back because he has enemies from when his now-deceased brother was involved in some shady business here in Paris, and I needed a place to live, so he let me move into the spare room in his apartment for the duration of my stay in Paris."

Sanjeevani's smile fell when she remembered her new friend had plans to leave soon. "You're not sticking around?"

A sad exhale. "I already told you, Sanjeevani. I can't stay. You know I can't…"

The dancer frowned and rubbed her eyes. There was no reason for her to get so emotional and attached when she only met the guy a few hours ago. They both stopped and looked at one another, watery brown meeting icy silver. Havardr wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in for a strong hug.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It'll be okay. Tell me what you think of this. If we ever cross paths again, I'll stick around. I'll be at your side until I die. This was maybe a fluke. But if we enter each other's lives again after today, it's because the Universe wants to keep us connected for some higher plan. Okay?"

She snorted through her sniffles. "Sap. But okay. That's fine." She nodded her head against his shoulder and melted into the feeling of scarred, rough hands scraping along through her hair.

"I'm going to miss you and your healing hands dearly," Havardr murmured.

"Okay, you barely know me, and we will meet again. I know it," she argued. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and sighed when he rubbed her back.

The Asgardian man nodded, trying to convince his heart and gut that leaving her now was the right thing to do. "Okay. Okay. Alright. We'll meet again. But you have places to go. A home to return to. I'll walk you back, but that's it, okay? And I'll pay you back for my half of the meal once we reach that building of yours."

Sanjeevani rubbed her eyes and pulled away, bobbing her head to agree. Oh, she hated that he had to leave. She couldn't explain it, but something about his presence made her want to stay at his side. Sure, they met only hours ago, but her entire soul screamed at her to stay with him no matter where he went. "Okay. Fine. And don't worry about the meal. That was my gift for you. Like a friendship bracelet, but food instead of plastic jewelry."

They resumed the walk, and Havardr smiled. "If you insist, I won't stop you."

"Thank you."

When he dropped her off at her home, she felt that screaming again. That instinct that told her to not let him leave her at any cost. Something shouted inside her, saying she belonged right there with him, but she ignored it all and smiled. He gave her one last hug and a kiss to her forehead and disappeared into the shadows of the alley.

* * *

"He sounds really weird, but also really cute. Any pics of him?" Sonia wondered.

"No way. I wouldn't betray him like that. He trusted me with his secrets, and I trusted him with mine. He's on the run, and so am I. That's a special bond people like us have. People who ran from their home to hopefully find a new one. Besides, I bet he's gonna stay in the city, and I'll maybe see him again when I'm a superhero."

Everyone rolled their eyes. "Whatever, girl," Olivia teased. "I can feel the love you got for him. But about this superhero thing…" She reclined on the couch in Ahmed's room, where they had all gathered. "You need a suit, a name, and a mask. How are you gonna make it?"

She beamed.

Ebony eyes shot to Ahmed, who lounged comfortably on his bed. He looked up when he felt everyone's eyes on him. "What?"

"Hey, buddy. Have you ever made a superhero suit before?" Sanjeevani challenged with a twinkle in her eye. He groaned. So that's what these fools all wanted.

With a sigh, he stared at his best friend. "Well, get on with it. What's the plan?"


End file.
